ACROSS 

THE 
LATITUDES 


JOHN  FLEMING  WILSON 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 


WILLIAM  P..  WREDEN 


ACROSS  THE  LATITUDES 


Our  men  were  boiling  for  a  scrap,  tough  as  knots. 

FRONTISPIECE.     Ste  page,  203 


ACROSS 
THE   LATITUDES 


BY 

JOHN  FLEMING  WILSON 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  LAND  CLAIMERS,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY 
1911 


Copyright,  1911, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  COMPANY. 


All  righto  reserved 
Published,  October,  1911 


THE  UNIVERSITY  FMCM,  CAM  BRIDGE,  U.  8.  A. 


fS 


TO 
MY  FRIENDS 

OF 

THE  SS.  HANALEI 


734035 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 
CHIEF  ENGINEER  MICHAEL  O'RouRKE 

I  Order  No.  113 1 

II  Tad  Sheldon,  Second  Class  Scout  ....  38 

III  A  Perilous  Philanthropy 63 

THE  UNWILLING  WAR  CORRESPONDENT 80 

THE  BAD  EGG 122 

NEIGHBORS 158 

THE  SCHOONER  MARY  E.  FOSTER:  GUARDIAN    .     .     .  187 

T.  HALDANE'S  BEQUEST 218 

THE  OLDEST  JOURNALIST  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS 

I  The  Persistence  of  the  Uninspired     .     .     .     .  236 

II  On  Kindilini 254 

STRANGE  PORTS 279 

JAMES  GALBRAITH,  ABLE-BODIED  SEAMAN    ....  298 

THE  VOICE  OF  AUTHORITY 321 

THE  DOG 343 

A  PERIODICAL  PROSELYTE 358 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Our  men  were  boiling  for  a  scrap,  tough  as  knots  Frontispiece 
"For  the  love  of  mercy,  what  is  that?"  I  yelled  .  Page  58 
'Twas  Tommy  Stubbs,  dirty,  forlorn  and  desp'rit  "  77 
"  You  men  get  forward  and  below  to  your  work  " .  "  138 

"  If  the  ship  will  pay  time  and  a  half  we  '11  stow 
this  lumber,  Captain,"  he  said    ........     "     174 

Even  the  cook  came  in  answer  to  that  fierce  cry  .  "  224 
Rapp  and  his  wife  rose  to  their  feet  and  walked 

feebly  out "     375 


ACROSS   THE    LATITUDES 

CHIEF   ENGINEER   MICHAEL 
O'ROURKE 


OEDEK  No.  113 

COMMANDEK  HALE'S  thoughts  traveled  straight  from  the 
lofty  office  down  the  Columbia  River  and  out  on  the 
Pacific  to  a  brick-red  vessel  with  stumpy  masts.  His 
quiet,  tired  eyes  half  closed  as  the  picture  of  this  farthest 
outpost  of  his  command  rose  before  him,  tossing  on  the 
bright,  lonely  sea,  tugging  at  the  slender  steel  cable  that 
marked  the  authority  of  the  United  States  Lighthouse 
Establishment.  Columbia  River  Light- Vessel  No.  188, 
as  her  official  title  ran,  was  new,  built  to  replace  faithful 
old  No.  153,  which  for  so  many  years  had  clung  to  her 
desolate  post,  suffering  the  terrific  punishment  of  month- 
long  hurricanes,  the  scars  of  collision,  going  adrift  in 
roaring  gales,  but  always  coming  back  to  the  job  till 
that  last  occasion  that  erased  her  from  the  list  and  put 
No.  188  in  her  place. 

Now  the   Commander  —  lately  transferred   from   a 
cruiser  to  this  lofty  and  busy  office  —  was  confronted 


2      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

with  the  task  of  picking  out  a  new  master  for  the  new 
vessel.  His  choice  stood  before  him,  young,  eager  and 
confident.  And  in  his  freshly  chosen  subordinate's  atti 
tude  Hale  thought  that  he  saw  still  another  thing  that 
was  new  —  not  a  man  or  a  ship  this  time,  but  an  idea. 

With  old  No.  153  there  had  passed  an  era  as  well. 
Hale  resented  it ;  what  had  the  great,  vigilant,  unweary 
ing,  patient  Lighthouse  Establishment  to  do  with  a 
strange  idea?  And  such  an  idea,  too.  It  was  prepos 
terous.  No.  188  vanished  from  his  mind's  eye  and  he 
frowned  on  the  new  captain.  "  What  was  that  you  just 
said  ?  "  he  inquired  of  the  young  man. 

John  Ethan  Lethbridge,  with  his  new  appointment  in 
his  pocket,  smiled  confidently.  "  I  merely  remarked,  sir, 
that  I  would  be  the  first  and  only  American  in  command 
of  a  light-ship  on  this  coast." 

The  Commander's  frown  deepened.  "  All  the  officers 
of  this  service  are  American  citizens,"  he  said  stiffly. 
"  And  I  believe  most  of  the  seamen  are,  too." 

Lethbridge  nodded,  paying  no  attention  to  the  Com 
mander's  frown.  "  Oh,  I  don't  mean  they  are  n't  citi 
zens,  and  all  that,"  he  said  easily.  "  But  look  at  'em  — 
Oleson,  Larsen,  Svensen,  Rasmussen,  Jurgenson,  Niel 
sen  —  and  you  '11  have  to  acknowledge  that  your  light- 
vessels  are  captained  by  Scandinavians.  I  understand 
there  are  a  few  Irish  and  Scotch  in  the  engine-rooms. 
You  see  what  I  mean,  sir.  I  '11  be  the  only  real  Ameri 
can  among  them." 

The  Commander  made  no  reply  and  Lethbridge  went 
on :  "I  've  always  felt  that  it  was  a  shame  to  have  good 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  3 

American  vessels  in  the  hands  of  foreigners,  and  I  'm 
glad  you  've  broken  the  old  custom,  sir,  and  have  n't 
handed  over  Government  jobs  to  men  who  have  no  claim 
at  all  except  that  they  've  signed  papers  and  lived  so 
long  in  this  country.  Just  remember,  sir,  that  there  'a 
an  American  out  on  No.  188." 

There  was  a  brief  silence.  Hale  raised  his  eyes  from 
the  desk  and  said  in  a  curt,  official  voice :  "  I  '11  remem 
ber  that,  Captain  Lethbridge.  I  am  not  aware  that  any 
officer  of  this  service  has  ever  shown  himself  delinquent 
in  his  duty,  however,  and  you  owe  your  own  appointment 
merely  to  your  standing  in  the  examination  and  your 
general  character.  Of  course  I  'm  glad  you  are  a  native- 
born  American,  but  I  have  no  criticism  to  make  of  any 
of  the  men  in  the  Establishment.  I  suppose  you  have 
studied  the  book  of  instructions?  I  wish  to  call  your 
particular  attention  to  Order  ~No.  113.  It  is  one  rule 
that  we  never  break  in  this  service,  Captain.  You  ob 
serve  that  it  forbids  you  to  leave  your  station  under  any 
circumstances  whatever  without  special  orders  from  this 
office.  That  means  that  the  only  excuse  you  have  for 
coming  into  port  is  if  your  moorings  carry  away  entirely. 
It  is  distinctly  to  be  understood  that  there  are  no  cir 
cumstances  that  will  justify  your  heaving  up  anchor  or 
slipping  your  cable.  The  Government  expects  every 
light-vessel  to  be  in  its  place  at  all  times  and  in  all 
weathers." 

Lethbridge  seemed  about  to  say  something,  but  merely 
nodded.  Hale  handed  him  a  fresh  copy  of  his  orders, 
dismissed  him  and  rang  for  the  chief  clerk. 


When  that  kindly  and  experienced  man  came  to  a  halt 
before  his  desk  Hale  looked  up  at  him  and  demanded, 
"  Who  is  the  mate  of  No.  188?  " 

"  Nicholas  Sunni,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What  nationality  ?  " 

"  Finn,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"  And  the  chief  engineer  ?  "  pursued  Hale. 

"  O'Kourke,  sir." 

"  Irish,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Born  on  the  old  sod,"  said  the  grave  clerk. 

Hale  made  a  gesture  of  dismay.  "  Lethbridge  seems 
to  think  the  service  has  gone  over  to  the  foreigners  com 
pletely,"  he  said.  "  The  man  actually  congratulated 
me  on  getting  an  American  master  for  No.  188" 

The  clerk  bowed  slightly,  coughed  and  suggested,  "  All 
the  officers  in  the  Establishment  are  Americans,  sir.  It 
is  the  law." 

Hale  flushed.  "  Quite  right.  I  meant  '  American- 
born.'  As  you  say,  all  our  men  are  citizens,  and  there 
can  be  no  complaint  on  that  score.  But  I  wish  I  had 
given  Lethbridge  a  ship  with  fewer  nationalities  among 
its  officers.  I  suppose  there  is  no  other  officer  on  board 
who  might  meet  Lethbridge's  expectations  ?  Who  is  the 
assistant  engineer  ? " 

"  Macpherson,"  said  the  clerk,  smiling  gently.  "  Al 
exander  Macpherson.  He  's  the  chap  that  brought  the 
Kilday  in  seven  years  ago  after  the  boilers  had  given  out 
and  killed  a  dozen  men.  Been  in  our  service  ever  since 
that  happened." 

"  He  must  be  a  good  man,  even  if  he  is  n't  what  Leth- 


bridge  calls  an  American,"  Hale  commented,  and  he 
turned  to  his  mail. 

That  evening  the  Commander  of  the  One  Hundred 
and  Twenty-Third  Lighthouse  District  read  the  follow 
ing  paragraph  in  his  afternoon  paper : 

Captain  John  Ethan  Lethbridge,  formerly  of  the  steamer 
Cape  May,  has  received  the  appointment  of  master  of  Columbia 
River  Light- Vessel  No.  188,  the  new  light-ship  that  has  just 
been  assigned  to  the  station  off  the  bar.  Captain  Lethbridge's 
appointment  seems  to  mark  a  new  departure  in  the  lighthouse 
service,  as  it  has  been  a  matter  of  frequent  complaint  that  the 
Government  has  accepted  foreign-born  masters  and  mates  con 
stantly  in  preference  to  Americans  born  and  bred.  Along  the 
water-front  the  hope  was  expressed  today  that  Commander 
Hale,  just  assigned  to  this  district,  will  continue  to  recognize 
the  efficiency  of  American-born  officers  and  relieve  the  Light 
house  Establishment  from  the  odium  of  being  manned  entirely 
by  foreigners  who  have  taken  out  citizenship  papers.  Captain 
Lethbridge,  while  yet  a  young  man,  exemplifies  a  high  type  of 
the  American  seaman  who  made  our  flag  famous  years  ago. 
He  left  this  evening  to  take  command  of  No.  188,  relieving 
Mate  Nicholas  Sunni,  who  has  been  in  charge  since  the  resig 
nation  of  Captain  Sven  Svensen  last  month. 

The  Commander  reread  this,  laid  the  paper  down  and 
shook  his  head.  He  suddenly  realized  that  the  new  idea 
had  sprung  into  a  mature  and  dangerous  existence.  The 
law  made  no  distinction  between  the  native  and  foreign- 
born  American  in  the  lighthouse  service.  It  had  gone 
ahead,  for  years,  guarding  the  coasts  of  two  great  oceans, 
watching  over  the  welfare  of  the  world's  commerce,  and 
the  question  had  never  arisen  whether  American-born 
Jones  or  Swedish-born  Oleson  had  been  the  better,  more 
faithful  servant.  And  yet  — 


6      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Hale  saw  the  other  side  of  the  question.  The  ambi 
tious  and  patriotic  American  was  anxious  to  see  his  Gov 
ernment's  vessels  in  the  hands  of  fellow-countrymen. 
He  might  judge  the  naturalized  citizen  unjustly,  but  the 
prejudice  was  deep-seated,  and,  the  Commander  had  to 
acknowledge  within  himself,  it  might  easily  become  a 
slogan.  Then,  when  this  new  idea  became  a  war-cry, 
how  was  he,  the  Commander,  to  be  just  and  fair  ?  For 
instance,  there  was  Svensen.  He  had  served  long  and 
well.  It  was  Svensen  who  had  hung  to  his  moorings  that 
time  when  the  huge  Glenfalcon  had  driven  staunch  No. 
153  deep  into  the  water,  crushing  her  gallant  little  hull 
into  the  boiling  brine.  Hale  recalled  reading  the  dusty 
reports  about  that  episode,  the  Glenfalcon  s  story  of  a 
ship  held  unmanageable  betwixt  wind  and  tide,  and  some 
tugboat  skipper's  brief  note  that  "  No.  153  appeared  in 
sinking  condition  at  sunset  with  rising  wind  and  sea,  but 
master  refused  assistance.  Saw  lights  lit  as  usual  be 
tween  squalls."  He  saw  again  that  thumbed  report  of 
Svensen's,  wherein  the  old  captain  had  set  down,  in  a 
cramped  hand :  "  Were  run  into  by  Ship  Glenfalcon  at 
4  p.  M.  ...  Kept  crew  at  pumps  and  lit  lights  four 
minutes  late  owing  to  carrying  away  of  forward  lamp- 
house  and  lamp.  Night  squally.  Kept  lights  bright  till 
vessel  sank  at  6 :15  A.  M.,  when  took  to  boats,  arriving  in 
Astoria  same  night ;  all  hands  safe." 

"  Good  old  Svensen !  "  thought  the  Commander ; 
"  with  his  scrupulous  fidelity  to  his  orders,  his  sedulous 
lighting  of  the  great  lamps  on  his  wallowing  and  sinking 
craft,  his  grim  '  Kept  lights  bright  till  vessel  sank.'  " 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  7 

But  Svensen  was  a  Swede,  and  according  to  the  evening 
paper  the  Lighthouse  Establishment  bore  a  degree  of 
odium  because  it  had  delivered  the  keeping  of  its  vessels 
to  men  of  alien  birth.  Hale  dropped  the  paper  and  mut 
tered  :  "I  don't  like  the  notion  Lethbridge  has ;  it  is  n't 
fair.  And  yet  —  I  hope  it  works  out  all  right." 

Fifty  miles  away,  in  a  railway  car  swinging  along  the 
Columbia's  steep  cliffs,  Captain  Lethbridge  was  cutting 
the  same  paragraph  out  of  his  paper  with  a  sharp  knife. 
He  snapped  the  blade  to  with  a  quick,  satisfied  gesture 
and  reread  the  item.  Then  he  carefully  tucked  it  into 
his  wallet  together  with  his  new  master's  papers,  some 
blank  forms  for  reports  and  a  receipted  bill  for  wet- 
weather  clothes.  A  slight  flush  warmed  his  eager  face 
as  he  stared  out  of  the  window  at  the  wide,  shadowy 
river.  He  saw  its  debouchment  into  the  sea,  the  quick 
run  of  the  surf  along  the  jetties,  the  smoke  of  the  tugs, 
the  jumping  bar  buoys,  and,  flung  against  the  horizon, 
the  image  of  his  new  command,  No.  188.  "  It  '11  be 
rather  slow,"  he  meditated.  "  But  a  good  man  can  wake 
up  even  a  light-ship.  And  they  need  a  good,  active  man 
on  one  of  'em  just  to  show  how  it  ought  to  be  done. 
Maybe  the  Commander  will  see  how  much  better  it  is 
to  have  a  hustling  American  in  charge  of  a  vessel,  and 
then  he  '11  quit  having  these  old  Swedes  and  Norwegians 
and  foreigners  on  'em,  and  we  boys  will  have  a  chance 
to  do  things  up  to  date  and  in  real  American  style." 

He  turned  to  answer  a  low-voiced  greeting  from  a 
bulky  man  whom  he  recognized  as  Jurgenson,  master 
of  the  Lighthouse  Tender  Eucalyptus.  Jurgenson  sat 


8      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

heavily  down  beside  him  and  remarked,  "  So  you  're 
going  out  to  take  No.  188,  Captain  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lethbridge  curtly. 

"  I  think  she  's  a  good  vessel,"  Jurgenson  went  on  sol 
emnly,  filling  his  pipe  and  cramming  the  tobacco  down 
with  a  stubby  finger.  "  That 's  a  hard  station.  I 
thought  Svensen  would  keep  her.  I  hear  he  's  resigned." 

"'  So  he  has,"  Lethbridge  assented.  Jurgenson  stared 
out  of  the  window  into  the  darkness.  "  I  was  mate  with 
Svensen  before  I  went  to  No.  167,  up  on  Swiftsure 
Bank,"  he  remarked.  "  Good  man.  Getting  old,  I 
guess.  Thought  he  'd  die  in  the  service." 

"He  lost  No.  153,"  Lethbridge  offered,  as  a  half 
explanation. 

Jurgenson  nodded.  "  Yes.  Kept  her  afloat  all  night 
and  the  lamps  burning.  Todd  of  the  Wasp  wanted  to 
tow  him  in  that  night.  Svensen  climbed  up  on  the  rail 
and  megaphoned  across,  '  I  ain't  got  no  orders  to  leave 
yet,  Cap'n !  '  Todd,  never  being  in  the  service,  thought 
the  old  man  was  crazy  to  stick  to  his  moorings,  and  al 
most  grabbed  old  153  by  force  to  take  her  in  and  beach 
her.  But  Svensen,  he  just  said  he  had  n't  got  no  orders 
to  leave  his  station  and  kept  his  lamps  bright,  and  so  old 
153  sank  and  Svensen  and  his  crew  had  to  pull  twelve 
hours  in  a  small  boat  across  a  smoky  bar." 

"  Svensen  would  have  saved  a  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars'  worth  of  property  if  he  'd  allowed  Todd  to  bring 
him  in,"  Lethbridge  said  impatiently.  "  The  Govern 
ment  does  n't  expect  a  man  to  be  a  fool  about  such  things. 
'A  master  of  a  lightship  ought  to  use  some  judgment." 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  9 

The  other  captain  puffed  slowly  on  his  pipe.  "  Well, 
orders  are  to  hang  on  to  your  moorings  till  you  're  or 
dered  in,"  he  said  calmly.  "  Svensen  obeyed  orders." 

"  That  may  be  all  right  for  you  fellows,"  Lethbridge 
said  with  total  disregard  of  Jurgenson's  feelings.  "  You 
men  who  were  n't  born  here  can't  be  expected  to  take  any 
responsibility.  But  I  '11  bet  an  American  skipper  would 
have  brought  old  153  in,  saved  his  Government  a  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars,  and  showed  his  sense." 

Jurgenson  digested  this  slowly.  Then  he  said,  with 
grim  quietness :  "  I  saw  that  piece  in  the  paper.  I  'm 
an  American,  Captain,  if  I  was  born  in  Norway,  and 
I  Ve  been  an  American  as  long  as  you  have,  even  if  you 
were  born  one.  And  I  think  that  orders  are  orders. 
Svensen  figured  out  that  he  was  put  there  to  keep  those 
lights  bright,  and  he  kept  'em  burning  till  his  vessel  sank 
—  which  was  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  dollars." 
Jurgenson  got  up  and  tramped  heavily  away  down  the 
aisle.  Lethbridge  was  embarrassed,  for  he  realized  that 
he  had  offended  one  of  the  oldest  men  in  the  service,  and 
this  had  been  unwise  on  the  part  of  one  of  the  youngest. 
"  But  he  '11  have  to  wake  up  and  listen  to  straight  talk 
before  long,"  he  comforted  himself.  "  ~No  commander 
expects  his  captains  to  make  idiots  of  themselves  for  the 
sake  of  an  order  like  that." 

Eighteen  hours  later  Lethbridge  swung  himself  down 
into  the  tender's  small  boat  that  was  to  convey  him  across 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  tumbling  water  to  No.  188.  Jur 
genson  waved  a  friendly  hand  to  him  from  the  Eucalyp 
tus'  deck  and  called  out :  "  I  've  told  the  steward  to  give 


10    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

you  a  quarter  of  fresh,  beef,  Captain.  You  '11  need  it 
before  we  get  your  quarterly  supplies  out  to  you.  This 
nice  weather  is  n't  going  to  last  long." 

Lethbridge  called  back  thanks  and  turned  his  eyes  to 
his  new  command.  She  seemed  very  small  as  she  lay 
heaving  to  her  anchor.  Stumpy  masts,  dwarfish  lamp- 
houses  and  a  flush  deck  gave  her  almost  a  miniature  as 
pect.  After  all,  she  did  n^t  amount  to  much ;  he  was 
sorry  he  had  left  the  merchant  service  for  the  Establish 
ment.  This  was  n't  a  young  man's  work,  sticking  to  a 
mushroom  anchor.  It  was  a  job  for  old  fellows  like 
these  foreigners. 

He  crawled  up  the  ladder  to  the  lightship's  deck  and 
shook  hands  with  the  mate,  who  seemed  glad  to  see  him. 
Then  he  waved  his  hand  to  the  officer  in  the  small  boat, 
glanced  around  and  followed  Sunni  down  the  steep  steps 
to  the  cabin. 

In  its  cramped  space,  with  stateroom  doors  giving  into 
it  on  both  sides,  Lethbridge  felt  better.  He  noticed  that 
the  mate  was  in  full  uniform.  His  own  dress  gave  a  good 
reflection  back  from  the  mirror  above  the  sideboard, 
making  a  general  air  of  official  importance.  No.  188, 
small  as  she  was,  belonged  to  the  Government,  and  he, 
Lethbridge,  was  master  of  her.  He  asked  for  the  log 
book. 

Sunni  nodded.  "  You  will  find  it  on  the  shelf  behind 
you,  Captain,"  he  said  with  a  distinctly  foreign  accent. 

Lethbridge  turned  and  picked  out  the  big  volume  and 
sat  down  in  a  swinging  chair  with  it  open  before  him  on 
the  table. 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  11 

"  Everything  all  right  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Sunni  sat  down  across  the  little  table  and  answered, 
"  All  quite  right.  Did  you  bring  off  any  fresh  meat  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lethbridge  indifferently.  "  And,  by  the 
way,  I  Ve  got  some  mail  for  you." 

The  mate  brightened  up,  his  gray  mustache  lifting  to 
display  full,  mobile  lips.  He  took  the  packet  Lethbridge 
handed  him  and  went  through  it,  picking  out  a  couple 
of  letters  which  he  dropped  into  his  pocket.  Then  he 
said,  "  I  '11  take  the  mail  for'ad  to  the  boys.  I  '11  be 
back  in  a  moment."  The  door  slid  open  and  closed 
behind  him. 

"  That  fellow  has  no  business  being  mate,"  Leth 
bridge  said  to  himself.  "  He  's  old  and  I  '11  bet  he  's 
rheumatic  as  well."  He  determined  to  ask  for  a  new 
officer  next  time  he  wrote  to  the  commander.  "  I  '11  tell 
him  we  need  an  energetic  American,"  he  thought. 

Sunni  returned  to  say,  "  The  ship  's  all  cleaned  up, 
Captain.  I  Ve  just  let  the  men  go  below  to  read  their 
mail." 

Lethbridge  glanced  at  the  clock.  "  Short  morning's 
work,"  he  remarked  dryly. 

Sunni  looked  down  at  the  two  letters  he  had  with 
drawn  from  his  pocket  and  said  nothing  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  suggested,  "  We  always  give  them  an  afternoon 
below  these  days." 

"  What  days  ?  " 

"  Days  we  clean  the  ship,"  Sunni  answered.  "  They 
appreciate  it." 

"  I  imagine  they  appreciate  anything  that  does  n't 


12      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

look  like  work,"  Lethbridge  snapped,  and  plunged  into 
the  log-book.  The  mate  glanced  at  him  inquiringly, 
got  up  and  went  into  his  own  room,  where  he  carefully 
opened  his  letters  with  a  knife  and  sat  down  on  the  edge 
of  the  bunk  to  read  them.  He  sighed  gently  as  he 
turned  the  closely  written  pages,  but  the  slow  expiration 
of  his  breath  seemed  more  an  involuntary  yielding  to  the 
motion  of  the  ship  than  an  expression  of  sadness.  He 
did  n't  hear  the  captain's  call  till  it  had  been  repeated. 
Then  he  laid  the  letters  down,  weighted  by  the  knife,  and 
took  the  two  steps  needful  to  bring  him  into  the  cabin 
again.  Lethbridge  was  holding  the  log-book  open  with 
one  hand  while  he  figured  with  a  pencil  in  the  other. 
"  How  much  coal  does  she  burn  a  day  ?  "  he  demanded. 

The  mate  shook  his  head.  "  The  chief  knows,"  he  re 
sponded.  "  I  can't  tell  exactly." 

"  Where  is  the  chief  engineer  ?  " 

Sunni  left  the  cabin  and  returned  with  a  small, 
heavily  mustached  man  who  bowed  and  looked  at  Leth 
bridge  out  of  bright  eyes.  "  Did  ye  want  me,  misther  ?  " 
he  inquired. 

"  You  are  Mr.  O'Rourke  ?  "  demanded  Lethbridge. 

"  Oi  om,"  said  the  chief  engineer.  "  Me  mother  chris 
tened  me  Mickey,  but  Oi'm  Misther  O'Rourke  now, 
thank  God  and  the  Governmint  of  the  Unithed  Sthates." 

"  How  much  coal  do  you  burn  a  day  ? "  Lethbridge 
said  stiffly. 

The  chief  engineer  slid  into  a  chair  and  shook  his 
head  dolefully.  "  Now  you  're  askin'  me  a  quistion  it 
breaks  me  heart  to  answer,  misther,"  he  said.  "  On  ould 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  13 

153  we  cud  kape  the  stheam  up,  condinse  our  dhrinkin' 
watther  and  have  a  bit  bye  for  the  cook's  taypot  and  only 
burn  a  ton  or  maybe  two  hundred  pound  beyond.  But 
188  —  and  Oi'm  not  sayin'  a  wurd  aginst  her,  misther 
—  ates  up  an  unhowly  amount  of  coal.  Ye  see, 
misther  —  " 

Lethbridge  felt  that  he  was  being  made  a  fool  of,  and 
said  curtly,  "  How  much  does  this  vessel  burn  a  day  ? " 

O'Rourke  tossed  grimy  hands  in  comic  discomfiture. 
"  It 's  all  down  in  the  little  book,"  he  asserted  earnestly. 
"  Misther  Macpherson  sets  it  all  down  each  day,  sor, 
and  a  betther  engineer  than  Macpherson  don't  breathe 
air  —  he  's  a  grand  mon,  sor,  and  he  sets  all  thim  little 
things  down  in  the  book  ivery  day,  as  you  '11  see  for 
yoursilf,  misther." 

Lethbridge  stared,  saw  a  faint  smile  on  the  mate's 
face,  and  rose  from  his  place.  "  Things  have  been  going 
pretty  slackly  on  this  ship,"  he  remarked,  "  when  the 
chief  engineer  does  n't  even  know  how  much  coal  his 
furnaces  use." 

O'Rourke  seemed  thunderstruck.  "  Och,  misther !  " 
he  said  contritely ;  "  Oi  '11  tell  ye  as  soon  as  I  get  me 
glasses  on.  Ye  see,  she  burns  some  coal  one  day  and 
more  another,  and  Misther  Macpherson  keeps  it  all 
down  in  the  little  book.  But  Oi  '11  look  and  see, 
misther  —  " 

The  chief  dived  through  the  door  and  Lethbridge 
heard  him  bawling  somewhere :  "  Tommy,  Tommy ! 
Tell  Misther  Macpherson  the  captain  wants  him,  and 
tell  him  to  bring  the  little  book  so  he  can  tell  the  captain 


14      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

how  much  coal  we  burn  ivery  day  right  off,  with  no 
throuble  to  anny  of  us,  seein'  it 's  all  down  in  the  little 
book  —  "  As  the  voice  died  away  in  the  depths  of  the 
engine-room  Lethbridge  saw  the  smile  on  Sunni's  face 
broaden  into  a  grin. 

"  Mickey  is  a  wonder,"  the  mate  remarked. 

"  I  'd  like  to  know  how  such  an  idiot  ever  got  to  be 
engineer  of  this  vessel,"  Lethbridge  broke  out  in  wrath. 
"  This  craft  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  imbecile  asylum." 

Sunni's  grin  faded.  "  Mr.  O'Rourke  has  been  in  the 
Establishment  twelve  years,"  he  said  formally. 

"  No  wonder  the  Government  is  trying  to  get  some 
Americans  into  its  vessels,"  was  Lethbridge's  reply. 
Sunni  flushed,  but  kept  his  peace.  The  chief  engineer 
reentered,  triumphantly  escorting  a  tall,  blue-eyed 
Scotchman  who  held  a  log-book  in  one  calloused 
hand. 

"  This  is  Misther  Macpherson,"  said  O'Rourke. 
"  And  he  can  tell  ye  iverything  ye  want  to  know  about 
the  engines  and  the  coals  and  the  machines,  sor.  Misther 
Macpherson,  tell  the  new  captain  what  he  wants  to 
know,  and  do  it  out  of  yer  little  book,  so  that  nobody  will 
be  up  and  say  we  don't  know  annything  about  our  own 
engines,  God  bliss  thim  fer  the  surface-condinsin', 
double-actin',  fore-and-aft  compound  beauties  they 
are!" 

Lethbridge's  face  was  hot.  "  I  think  we  won't  bother 
the  assistant  engineer,"  he  said  with  dignity.  "  When 
the  chief  engineer  of  this  vessel  can  find  time  to  tell  its 
commander  what  he  wants  to  know  I  '11  listen  to  him. 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  15 

Mr.  Sunni,  let 's  have  a  look  at  the  men.     I  hope  we 
have  at  least  one  good  boat's  crew  among  them." 

As  the  captain  passed  haughtily  out  into  the  berth- 
deck  the  chief  engineer  gazed  thoughtfully  after  him. 
"  Now  we  've  gone  and  offinded  a  bran-new  uniform, 
Macpherson,  with  our  little  book  and  our  coal  figgers. 
The  divil's  childher  have  their  father's  luck,  Misther 
Macpherson,  and  me  bould  Mickey  has  said  ayther  a 
mite  too  much  or  a  heap  too  little."  O'Rourke  sighed, 
and  wiped  one  eye  with  the  cuff  of  his  cotton  shirt. 
"  But  the  bilges  are  clane,  annyway,"  he  said  with  re 
turning  cheerfulness.  "  And  thot  's  all  your  work, 
Misther  Macpherson.  I  give  ye  credit  f er  bein'  a  clanely 
mon  and  a  handy  one,  and  the  ingins  of  ould  188  bliss 
ye  with  their  shinin'  faces.  I  wundher  what  we  've 
done  to  offind  the  new  skipper?  He  looks  a  good  sort, 
and  a  good  seaman  too." 

Macpherson  grumbled  in  his  beard,  tucked  the  engine- 
room  log-book  under  his  arm  and  slipped  away.  But  as 
he  plunged  down  the  alleyway  he  came  full  on  Leth- 
bridge,  who  was  examining  the  coil  of  fire  hose.  Leth- 
bridge  stopped  him  and  said  acidly,  "  How  often  do  you 
inspect  this  apparatus  ?  " 

u  It 's  not  in  our  department,"  said  the  assistant 
sourly. 

"  It  will  be  hereafter,"  was  the  curt  response.  "  See 
to  it  that  the  couplings  are  ready  and  on,  if  you  have  n't 
tossed  them  over  the  side !  "  —  a  speech  that  made  the 
assistant  speechless  with  rage,  for  he  took  pride  in  his 
work. 


16      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Just  one  week  later  Lethbridge  sat  alone  in  the  little 
cabin  over  his  first  official  report.  He  contemplated  it 
grimly.  In  it  he  asked  for  a  new  mate,  two  new  engi 
neers,  and  recommended  that  at  least  two  of  the  sailors 
be  discharged  for  physical  disability.  "  That  sounds 
pretty  bad,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  gnawing  the  pen 
holder.  "  But  it 's  my  duty  to  do  it.  The  idea  of  hav 
ing  such  men  on  board  a  Government  vessel !  "  An  hour 
later  he  was  still  at  the  same  point,  furious  with  himself 
for  his  hesitation  to  complete  the  task.  "  If  the  com 
mander  can't  see  that  I  'm  right,"  he  argued  to  himself, 
"  then  I  've  no  business  out  here.  Bad  weather  is  com 
ing  on  again,  and  if  this  craft  ever  broke  adrift  these 
fellows  would  be  as  helpless  as  cats  in  a  whirlwind  — 
chief  engineer  an  old  Irishman  who  does  n't  know 
enough  to  keep  his  men  at  a  distance,  second  engineer  a 
cocky  Scotchman  who  only  draws  his  pay,  and  my  mate 
an  old  fellow  with  a  wife  and  children  ashore  and  no 
thought  for  his  work  out  here." 

At  this  moment  Sunni  slid  the  door  open  and  said 
quietly,  "  The  Wallula  is  alongside,  sir." 

Half  an  hour  later  Lethbridge  was  reading  a  paper, 
freshly  brought  off  by  the  tug,  while  Sunni  was  explain 
ing  to  O'Rourke  that  he  had  just  had  a  letter  from  Mrs. 
Sunni  saying  she  would  leave  for  Tillamook,  forty  miles 
down  the  coast,  on  the  steamer  Gull,  sailing  Sunday 
morning.  "  This  is  Saturday,"  the  mate  groaned. 
"  And  the  Gull  is  n't  fit  for  a  lake." 

"  The  Gull  is  a  betther  ship  than  a  dozen  you  and  me 
have  sailed  in,"  said  O'Rourke  consolingly.  "  And  yer 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  17 

good  lady  will  hov  a  nate  trip  down  and  she  'a  goin'  to 
see  her  own  born  sister,  ye  say  ?  Misther,  d'  ye  begrudge 
her  the  visit  ?  Begorrah,  there  's  no  harm  '11  come  to 
her,  for  she  's  a  foine  woman  Mrs.  Sunni,  and  I  ray- 
mimber  well  the  dinner  she  gave  me  the  time  me  arm 
was  broke  in  the  bunker  of  ould  153  and  I  cud  n't  ate 
with  me  fork  like  a  Christian,  but  had  to  fish  for  the 
chicken  leg  with  a  spoon  out  of  the  platter.  It 's  not  for 
you  and  me  to  be  timptin'  God  to  spoil  a  good  woman's 
mirth  by  our  fears  of  disaster." 

"  The  weather  is  changing,"  sighed  Sunni,  clasping 
one  hand  within  the  other. 

"  It 's  niver  stheady  at  sea,"  said  O'Rourke.  "  If 
it 's  pleasant  in  the  hivins,  it 's  a  terrible  storm  in  the 
cabin ;  if  the  sea  goes  down  and  for  once  in  a  while  our 
legs  stay  straight  undher  us  the  way  the  good  Lord  made 
thim,  and  we  can  kape  our  hands  in  our  pockets  and  off 
the  furniture,  something  has  gone  wrong  with  me  bould 
skipper,  or  the  cook  has  a  tanthrum,  or  the  submarine 
bell  has  to  be  hauled  out  and  looked  into  its  innards.  I 
niver  yet  saw  the  ship  where  the  weather  was  consist 
ently  foine,  misther." 

Sunni  refused  to  be  comforted.  "  There  Ve  been  a 
lot  of  accidents  on  Tillamook  bar,"  he  groaned.  "  And 
here  's  Helma  going  down  there  in  the  heart  of  winter." 

O'Rourke's  face  grew  grave.  "  Niver  ye  fear,  Misther 
Sunni,"  he  said.  "  Even  the  divil  wud  do  yer  woife  no 
harm,  savin'  her  grace  fer  mintionin'  her  good  silf  and 
the  ould  bhoy  in  the  same  breath.  And  Rasmussen  of 
the  Gull  is  a  good  seaman ;  we  were  togither  in  the  ould 


18      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

City  of  Brussels  and  swam  out  to  the  same  spar  whin  she 
sank,  and  hung  there,  the  watther  pourin'  into  our  ears ; 
and  Rasmussen  says  to  me,  '  Mickey,  are  ye  cold  ? '  and 
I  says  to  him,  '  Misther  Rasmussen,  me  belly  's  warm, 
but  it 's  a  long  way  from  there  to  me  toes.'  And  Ras 
mussen,  seem'  I  was  a  little  fellay,  gave  me  a  mite  more 
of  me  bould  spar  and  says,  '  Ye  woild  Oirishman,  what 
d  'ye  expect  whin  ye  're  supposed  to  be  drownded  ?  I 
niver  knew  yet  an  Oirishman  that  was  satisfied.'  And 
so  he  kept  the  heart  in  me  till  we  were  picked  up.  Ras 
mussen  is  a  foine  fellay,  and  Mrs.  Sunni  he  '11  look  after 
special." 

At  this  instant  Lethbridge  came  up  and  looked  at  the 
barometer. 

"  We  're  going  to  have  another  gale,"  he  remarked. 

"  Thot  's  the  way  it  does  on  this  coast,"  O'Rourke 
said,  casting  bright  glances  about  the  deck  and  hitching 
at  a  broken  suspender.  "  It 's  foine  as  silk  for  a  wake 
and  thin  it  pours  the  wind  out  of  the  sky  be  the  month. 
I  raymimber  in  ould  153  that  Oleson  —  he  was  mate 
thim  days  and  came  out  of  a  steam  schooner  like  yersilf , 
Misther  Lethbridge  —  was  congratulatin'  himsilf  that 
his  throubles  were  over,  praise  God,  whin  it  blew  for 
three  wakes  on  ind,  and  Oleson  lost  all  six  caps  he  had 
brought  off  from  shore  with  him  and  was  mournin'  day 
and  night  that  he  must  go  bareheaded  to  Purgat'ry, 
savin'  yer  prisince,  Misther  Lethbridge ;  but  that 's  what 
he  said  and  there's  no  harm  in  it,  for  we  must  all 
sweat  in  Purgat'ry  and  why  not  make  the  best  of  it, 
misther  ? " 


19 

Lethbridge  showed  his  open  contempt  for  such  re 
marks  by  walking  away  a  few  paces  and  then  coming 
back  to  say,  "  Mr.  Sunni,  I  wish  you  would  tell  the  men 
on  watch  to  keep  a  good  lookout  when  the  weather  breaks. 
There  are  a  lot  of  old  tubs  coming  in  and  out,  and  we 
must  be  ready  to  stand  by  if  they  need  assistance." 

"  There !  "  said  O'Rourke  as  Lethbridge  vanished. 
"  We  '11  all  be  on  the  lookout  for  the  Gull,  Misther 
Sunni,  and  if  aught  happens  to  it  yer  woife  is  safe." 

But  the  mate  found  small  comfort  in  this,  recalling 
to  the  chief  engineer's  mind  that  Mrs.  Sunni  and  he  had 
been  married  fifteen  years  and  had  three  children. 
"  And  I  've  not  seen  them  for  five  months,"  he  concluded. 

"  No  wundher  yer  woife  is  goin'  on  a  visit,"  said 
O'Rourke  cheerfully.  "  And  ye  '11  see  Rasmussen  hike 
the  Gull  past  us  to-morrow  morning  like  a  yacht." 

"  I  hope  she  won't  go  to  sea,"  said  Sunni.  "  But  that 
opposition  line  makes  it  bad  for  Rasmussen.  The 
owners  will  make  him  go  out  no  matter  what  the  weather, 
just  so  as  not  to  lose  a  trip  and  let  the  other  boat  get 
some  freight."  He  walked  away,  bitterly  thinking  that 
experience  and  seamanship  counted  little  when  profits 
were  at  stake. 

The  next  morning  Lethbridge,  coming  on  deck  for  the 
first  time,  saw  the  far  mountains  of  the  coast  draped  in 
cloud,  but  ignored  the  portent.  He  saw  only  the  glim 
mering,  quiet  sea,  the  pilot-schooner  a  mile  to  the  south, 
an  oil-tanker  curtsying  decorously  to  the  blue  rollers 
far  astern,  the  sun  rising  mistily,  a  bark  standing  in 
toward  the  bar  under  all  plain  sail.  Sunni  joined 


20      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

him,  rubber-booted  and  glum.  "  Storm  coining,"  he 
remarked. 

"  Don't  think  so,"  said  Lethbridge.  "  The  wind  will 
haul  into  the  southeast,  but  that  means  ordinary  weather 
this  time  of  year." 

Sunni  stared  at  the  big  lamps,  now  being  lowered  into 
their  houses.  "  I  wonder  whether  the  Gull  will  leave 
out  for  Tillamook  this  morning  ? "  he  said. 

Lethbridge  answered  with  the  simple  remark,  "  That 
old  tub  ?  That  Swede  skipper  of  hers  will  put  her  under 
some  day." 

Sunni  flushed.  "  Rasmussen  is  a  friend  of  mine,"  he 
said  bluntly.  "  He  'a  a  first-class  man." 

Lethbridge  smiled  tolerantly.  "  You  foreigners  all 
hang  together,  don't  you  ?  You  'd  run  a  paper  box  filled 
with  passengers  around  the  Horn  if  there  was  any 
money  in  it  for  you.  You  could  n't  get  an  American  to 
touch  the  Gull.  It 's  plain  murder  to  send  that  craft 
out  in  winter  time."  And  Lethbridge  walked  away,  tak 
ing  no  personal  pleasure  in  snubbing  his  mate,  but  feel 
ing  that  it  was  his  duty,  as  a  patriotic  American,  to  put 
the  foreigners  in  their  place. 

Sunni,  for  the  first  time  in  a  long  life  at  sea,  took  his 
troubles  with  his  superior  to  another  man,  finding 
O'Rourke  at  work  in  the  engine-room  berating  a  fat 
fireman.  The  chief  engineer,  after  one  glance  at  the 
mate,  withdrew  him  into  a  dark  bunker,  where  he  lit  a 
greasy  torch.  "  'T  is  me  confissional,"  he  explained. 
"  Whin  things  go  wrong  and  the  tall  blue  divil  has  his 
nails  on  me  bould  Mickey,  I  come  down  here  and  have 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  21 

it  out.  The  coals  won't  tell.  What 's  on  yer  chest, 
misther  ?  It  is  n't  all  worry,  I  see ;  't  is  part  of  it  plain 
anger." 

"  I  'm  going  to  ask  the  commander  for  a  transfer," 
said  Sunni,  balancing  himself  to  the  uneasy  tumble  of 
the  ship.  "  The  skipper  calls  you  and  me  foreigners. 
I  've  been  in  the  Establishment  ten  years,  Mickey,  and 
you  've  been  here  longer,  and  I  've  a  little  home  ashore 
and  I  'm  an  American  as  much  as  that  young  fellow  on 
deck.  I  'm  a  Finn,  but  I  'm  an  American  too." 

The  chief  engineer  rubbed  his  hands  on  a  bit  of  waste 
and  stared  at  the  flickering  torch.  "  I  was  born  widout 
shoes,  misther,"  he  said  presently,  "  and  no  shoes  did  I 
have  till  I  was  passin'  coal  in  the  old  City  of  Liverpool 
and  Nesbitt,  who  was  assistant  in  her,  hove  a  pair  of 
brogans  at  me  head.  And  Nesbitt  was  an  American. 
Me  mother,  God  bliss  her!  niver  lived  to  see  me  with 
a  white  shirt  on  me  back,  and  now  whin  I  'm  old  I  'm  an 
American  citizen,  with  me  papers  and  me  oath  of  alle 
giance  and  me  good  pay  ivery  month.  I  've  served  in 
half  the  light-ships  on  the  Coast,  and  I  've  nursed  ingins 
and  kept  condinsers  goin'  and  saved  coal  and  done  me 
duty  as  I  saw  it,  and  thanked  God  for  Uncle  Sam  and 
me  honest  service  with  me  foine  uniform  and  me  good 
grub  and  the  rispict  of  me  shipmates.  And  he  calls  me 
an  ignorant  Oirishman  befure  me  own  min.  Oi'm 
Oirish,  but  me  bould  Mickey  is  an  American  too,  and 
chief  engineer  in  the  Unithed  Sthates  Lighthouse  Estab 
lishment,  with  good  service  behind  me  and  an  honest 
day's  work  ahead  of  me.  Oh,  misther !  the  bhoy  is  crazy ! 


22      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

But  he  's  the  masther  of  this  vessel  and  orders  are  orders. 
Oi  'm  askin'  fer  a  transfer  mesilf.  If  the  commander 
will  give  me  back  me  ould  job  on  ould  167,  with  liss 
pay  and  more  work  —  Oi  'm  the  sanior  engineer  too  — 
Oi  '11  be  contint.  But  so  long  as  you  and  me  are  on  this 
ship,  misther,  we  must  obey  orders.  'T  is  n't  America 
that 's  threatin'  us  this  way ;  it 's  a  mere  bhoy,  all  puffed 
up  wid  the  pride  of  being  born  here." 

"  I  won't  be  called  a  foreigner,"  said  Sunni  sullenly. 

"  A  word  's  a  word,  and  soon  past,"  said  O'Rourke, 
picking  up  a  piece  of  coal ;  "  but  a  man  's  a  man.  Oi  've 
seen  a  dozen  commanders  in  this  district,  and  ivery  one 
of  thim  had  something  to  say  to  me,  and  I  spoke  out  to 
thim  and  they  spoke  out  to  me,  always  saving  their 
prisince,  and  whin  all  was  said  Mickey  was  on  his  job 
and  the  commander  was  on  his.  The  bhoy  aft  there  is 
try  in'  to  hold  all  our  jobs,  not  knowin'  that  each  man 
must  stand  on  his  own  foot.  But  we  're  here  to  do  our 
duty,  and  the  Governmint  ain't  carin'  whether  we  loike 
the  color  of  his  hair,  the  roof  where  he  was  born  or  the 
twisht  of  his  mousers.  He  '11  learn  too." 

Sunni  shook  his  had  and  said  abruptly :  "  The  glass 
is  falling  and  there  's  a  strong  set  to  the  current.  We  're 
in  for  another  gale." 

"  Pity  the  poor  fellays  on  the  steam  schooners,"  said 
O'Kourke.  "  We  're  snug." 

"  I  hope  the  Gull  won't  try  to  make  Tillamook  with 
this  tide,"  grunted  Sunni  dismally. 

"  Trust  Misther  Rasmussen,"  adjured  the  chief,  blow 
ing  out  the  torch  and  leading  the  way  out  of  the  bunker. 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  23 

"  Ye  '11  see  the  Gull  pass  out  of  the  river  at  eight  o'clock 
and  know  that  all 's  well." 

But  Nicholas  Sunni  did  not  see  the  Gull  cross  the  bar, 
though  he  peered  through  the  sodden  mist  with  all  his 
eyes;  for  as  the  sun  rose  the  wind  got  up  and  by  ten 
o'clock  a  howling  tempest  was  piling  up  the  seas  and  No. 
188  was  plunging  bows  under,  tearing  at  her  cable,  lash 
ing  herself  into  a  perfect  frenzy  of  excitement  as  the 
sky  settled  down  on  her  and  the  great  tides  of  the  North 
Pacific  turned  and  clutched  at  her  with  streaming 
fingers. 

At  noon  Lethbridge,  clad  in  oilskins  and  boots,  was 
hanging  to  the  rail  of  the  booby  hatch  abaft  the  after 
lamphouse.  He  was  watching  the  wild  gyrations  of  his 
new  command  and  wincing  as  she  snapped  the  big  rid 
ing  springs  hard  against  the  chocks  with  a  jar  that  made 
the  steel  masts  whimper.  Sunni  was  about  his  slow, 
daily  business  with  a  secretive  air,  as  though  he  knew 
something  of  vast  importance  that  he  dared  not  tell. 
Now  and  again  O'Rourke  would  come  up,  shirt-sleeved, 
bareheaded,  to  stare  brightly  out  landward,  where  there 
was  no  land  to  be  seen,  only  a  grayish  blur  of  spume  and 
driven  brine. 

At  one  o'clock  a  hard-pressed  oil-tanker  lurched  up 
to  leeward,  smelt  the  roily  water  of  the  outer  bar  and 
was  swept  off,  black  smoke  pouring  out  of  her  low  fun 
nels  as  she  fled  for  the  Straits  a  hundred  miles  north. 
In  a  break  in  the  afternoon  gloom  Lethbridge  saw  the 
pilot-schooner  running  for  the  open  sea,  a  last  sign  that 
the  storm  was  growing  in  strength.  Sunni,  too,  saw  the 


24      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

little  vessel  and  sighed.  "  We  sha'n't  see  her  for  a 
week,"  he  remarked.  "  When  she  quits  it  means  that 
nothing  else  can  risk  it  this  close  in.  Well,  our  cable  's 
strong  and  if  we  break  it,  we  Ve  the  power  to  go  it 
alone." 

Lethbridge  made  no  response  except  a  grunt.  The 
twilight  settled  into  the  blank  darkness  of  night.  The 
great  lamps  swung  wildly  at  the  mastheads,  throwing 
their  gleam  into  the  smother.  The  last  faint  radiance 
of  North  Head  Light  was  swallowed  in  the  murk,  and 
the  hoarse  fog-whistle  began  its  monotonous  two-second 
blasts.  Overside  the  submarine  bell  clanged  rapidly, 
tolling  off  breathlessly  the  signal  One-Eight-Eight.  The 
mess-boy  reported  supper  ready.  So  the  storm  settled 
down  on  the  laboring  light-ship,  wrapping  her  in  stream 
ing  mist,  roaring  sullenly  about  her  lonely  lights,  fling 
ing  over  her  the  huge  cracking  surges  that  marked  the 
sea's  angry  might.  And  in  the  little  cabin  the  officers 
sat  in  their  creaking  chairs,  clutching  at  the  dishes 
which  the  tottering  boy  handed  them  with  a  wry  face. 
Lethbridge  seemed  flushed  with  pleasure,  eagerly  listen 
ing  to  the  crunch  of  the  driving  seas  and  the  jar  of  the 
windlass.  O'Rourke  ate  swiftly,  occasionally  muttering 
a  word  to  Macpherson.  Sunni  stared  at  the  lamp,  ap 
parently  reading  some  eccentric  and  puzzling  message 
in  its  erratic  passage  from  one  end  of  its  little  arc  to 
the  other.  His  mind  was  on  the  Gull.  Had  Rasmussen 
left  harbor  only  to  run  into  this  gale?  After  all,  ex 
perience  and  wisdom  did  n't  count  in  these  days,  he 
reflected.  All  people  wanted  was  that  vessels  should 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  25 

make  their  schedule.  Rasmussen  couldn't  afford  to 
lose  his  job.  Lethbridge  had  been  correct  in  saying  that 
no  native  American  would  have  taken  the  Gull  to  sea. 
Sunni  wondered  miserably  why  it  was  that  it  was  the 
Scandinavian  who  did  these  difficult  things,  who  kept 
old  ships  running,  who  made  it  possible  for  non-sea 
faring  stockholders  to  amass  dividends.  Lethbridge, 
even  his  hatred  told  him,  would  have  defied  owners  and 
stuck  to  his  own  judgment.  There  was  something  in 
Lethbridge  and  his  like  that  scorned  the  routine  and 
drudgery  that  made  the  whole  existence  of  so  many 
sailors  and  masters.  What  was  it?  Sunni  demanded 
of  himself.  Dimly  he  knew  that  his  own  wit  and  skill 
were  greater  than  Lethbridge's.  Yet  all  that  skill  and 
all  that  experience  did  not  prevent  Mrs.  Sunni  — 
Helma,  his  children's  mother  —  from  being  at  sea  in  an 
unseaworthy  vessel  in  a  storm.  Lethbridge's  people, 
he  bitterly  reflected,  were  at  home,  in  snug  houses,  care 
less  and  ignorant  of  the  devouring  sea. 

The  mate  got  up  suddenly,  clutched  his  way  out  of 
the  cabin  and  on  deck.  The  chief  engineer  followed 
him,  brushing  his  gray  mustache  and  turning  his  bright 
eyes  hither  and  thither  till  the  full  blast  of  the  wind 
almost  drove  them  back  into  his  head.  Standing  in  the 
shelter  of  the  hatchway  he  pulled  at  Sunni's  oilskin  coat. 
"  Misther !  Misther !  "  he  said  miserably.  "  Your  lady 
is  n't  at  sea  this  night." 

Sunni  turned  his  white,  aged  face  on  him. 
"  Mickey,"  he  said  wretchedly,  "  I  wish  I  had  never  seen 
the  sea." 


26      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

The  chief  engineer  dragged  himself  one  step  farther 
up,  poking  a  grimy  forefinger  into  the  mate's  waist- 
lashing.  "  Him,"  he  said  with  sudden  profound  wis 
dom,  "  don't  know  annything  about  it.  He  thinks  he  's 
boss  here,  misther.  But  you  and  me,  we  've  been  workin' 
and  toilin'  all  our  lives,  and  our  fathers  and  mothers 
worked  and  toiled  all  their  lives  on  this  same  domned 
sea,  and  we  know.  Misther  Sunni,  the  lad  down  there 
with  his  uniform  and  his  high  ways  don't  know  anny 
thing.  Me  father  was  drownded  off  Ushant.  I  've 
heard  ye  say  yer  own  father  went  down  in  a  lumber 
drogher  in  the  North  Sea,  and  we  know."  He  stopped, 
fixing  his  weary,  sparkling  eyes  on  the  stolid  mate,  em 
bodying  in  one  comprehensive  and  authoritative  gesture 
the  history  of  a  race,  of  all  the  races  of  seafarers,  who 
live,  suffer  and  die,  who  struggle  and  battle  and  strive 
for  the  little  that  the  sea  does  not  withhold,  who  go 
against  it  in  armies,  who  make  their  lives  fit  its  codes 
of  necessity,  who  accept  defeat  and  are  unsure  of  their 
victories;  who  never  boast,  who  constantly  patch  up 
their  theories  to  meet  the  sea's  new  contingencies,  who 
know  that  the  only  way  to  gain  even  transient  ascend 
ency  is  to  hang  together  and  obey  the  hard-learnt  rules 
of  the  game.  And  it  was  one  of  these  rules  that  the  chief 
engineer  enforced  now  with  his  sooty  finger.  "  Forget 
it,"  he  adjured  Sunni.  "  'T  is  our  business  to  kape  the 
lights  bright.  'T  is  Rasmussen's  to  get  the  Gull  and 
your  lady  safe  into  Tillamook." 

The  mate  nodded  briefly,  turning  his  face  once  more 
into  the  biting  wind.  His  hoarse  voice  broke  along  the 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  27 

dripping,  careering  deck.  "  For'ad,  there !  The  after 
light  is  smoking !  Lower  away  and  trim !  "  As  two 
men  tumbled  out  in  response  to  this  command  O'Rourke 
silently  withdrew  down  the  steps,  peered  wisely  in  upon 
Lethbridge,  who  was  writing  up  the  log,  and  retired  to 
the  fiddle,  where  he  dried  himself  in  the  dry,  aromatic 
heat  from  the  fire-room  below,  humming  a  song  under  his 
breath,  listening  to  the  throb,  hiss  and  beat  of  the  hurry 
ing  air-compressor  engine.  Overhead  the  whistle  flung 
out  its  crashing  bellow,  shaking  the  strong  structure  of 
the  light-ship  with  vibrations  of  sound.  Far  down 
against  the  vessel's  side  the  submarine  bell  tolled  chok 
ingly,  One-Eight-Eight,  hurriedly,  insistently,  as  if  its 
office  were  the  most  important  in  the  world.  O'Rourke 
nodded,  lost  the  tune  of  his  song  and  slept,  surrounded 
by  the  humming  boilers,  soothed  by  the  clatter  of  shovels 
in  the  fire-room,  the  slather  of  the  coals  across  the  plates, 
the  creaking  and  straining  of  the  beams  that  carried  the 
motionless  engines'  weight. 

He  wakened  at  midnight,  gave  the  fireman  just  come 
on  watch  his  blessing,  peered  at  the  whistle-engine,  felt 
the  hot  cylinders  of  the  air-compressor,  poked  his  nose 
into  the  jangle  forward  where  the  windlass  was  biting 
into  the  cable  and  snarling  over  the  leap  and  jerk  of  the 
moorings,  and  then  went  up  the  steps  on  deck.  As  he 
thrust  his  head  above  the  hatch-coaming  and  caught  the 
whirling  blast  of  the  gale  Sunni  lurched  by,  stooping 
over  to  avoid  the  volleys  of  spray  that  rattled  along  the 
decks.  O'Rourke  stopped  him  and  dragged  him  back 
into  the  shelter  of  the  lamphouse.  "  'T  is  the  Captain's 


28      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

watch,"  he  protested.  "  And  for  why  are  ye  on  deck 
here,  Misther  Sunni  ?  " 

The  mate  turned  his  haggard  face  to  the  light.  "  I 
thought  we  'd  best  keep  a  double  lookout,"  he  muttered. 
"  If  the  Gull  can't  make  Tillamook,  she  '11  come  out 
here  to  lie  by  till  daylight." 

"  Much  good  't  will  do  you  if  she  does,"  said  the 
chief  engineer  practically.  "  The  Gull 's  safe  enough. 
Ye  can  spind  money  and  get  it  back,  but  lost  slape 
niver  did  annybody  anny  good  at  all,  for  nobody  iver 
found  the  slape  some  one  ilse  lost.  Turn  in,  Misther 
Sunni." 

Sunni's  eminently  practical  mind  had  gone  off  on  a 
tangent,  however,  and  he  enlarged  to  O'Rourke  on  the 
various  accidents  that  might  befall  the  Gull.  He  pic 
tured  her  stranded  on  Tillamook  bar,  helplessly  adrift 
off  the  coast,  foundering  in  the  darkness.  O'Rourke 
scorned  him.  "  Turn  in  and  get  some  slape,"  he  ad 
jured  him.  "  All  the  bhoys  will  kape  a  good  lookout, 
and  if  something  did  happen  what  cud  we  do,  Misther 
Sunni?" 

"We  might  pick  up  the  small  boat,"  said  the  mate 
wretchedly. 

"  If  the  small  boat  cud  hit  us  in  the  pit  murk,"  was 
the  response.  "  Rasmussen  won't  thry  that.  He  '11  wait 
till  dawn,  like  a  sinsible  fellay,  and  come  up  bright  and 
foine  with  the  sun  to  breakfast  with  us." 

"  Look  here !  "  said  the  mate,  dragging  the  chief  en 
gineer  over  to  the  side.  "  Look  at  that,  man !  " 

O'Rourke  balanced  himself  on  the  slippery  plates  and 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  29 

peered  down  the  vessel's  side.  A  sinking  sea  slid  into 
some  abyss  and  left  streaming  steel  flanks  quivering  be 
low  them.  Another  sea  buried  them,  flinging  the  light 
ship  far  over.  But  O'Rourke  had  seen  and  groaned. 

"  'T  is  a  tin-knot  current,"  he  whispered.  "  No 
wundher  the  ould  girl  winces  on  the  cable  and  the 
shackles  sing  in  the  hawse-pipes.  No  small  boat  can  live 
in  that." 

"  It  might  live  a  while,"  said  Sunni,  "  but  it  would 
be  helpless.  Even  a  full-powered  steamer  could  hardly 
breast  that  tide." 

Lethbridge  came  along,  shaking  the  spray  from  his 
cap.  "  The  wind  is  pretty  nearly  a  hundred  miles  an 
hour,"  he  gasped.  "  D  'ye  think  the  cable  will  hold  ?  " 

O'Rourke  wagged  a  wise  head.  "  It  '11  hold,  misther," 
he  cried  back.  "  She  's  a  new  chain  and  she  's  been 
tested  and  built  and  retested  just  to  stand  this  weather. 
The  Governmint  don't  take  no  chances  now." 

"  If  she  does  part,"  said  Lethbridge,  coming  into  the 
lee  of  the  lamphouse,  "  we  have  power  enough  to  go  out 
and  steam  around  with  the  best  of  them." 

"  She  's  a  good  boat,"  said  the  mate.  "  I  expect  she 
could  make  fair  time  even  against  this  wind  and 
tide." 

"  Oh,  we  're  safe  enough !  "  Lethbridge  assented 
easily.  "  And  if  need  be  we  could  slip  our  moorings 
and  go  and  help  some  other  vessel." 

Sunni  nodded.  "  We  could,"  he  grunted ;  "  but  we  've 
got  to  hang  on  here.  That 's  orders." 

"  I  'm  never  going  to  see  a  vessel  in  distress  and  not 


30      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

help  her,"  said  Lethbridge  sharply.  "  That 's  why 
we  Ve  got  engines  and  a  full  head  of  steam.  We  're  sup 
posed  to  use  judgment  in  this  business." 

O'Kourke  was  shocked.  "  Och,  misther !  "  he  pleaded. 
"  'T  is  our  orders  to  stay  here  till  we  are  told  to  come 
in,  and  we  cud  n't  slip  our  moorings.  'T  is  impossible. 
It  has  n't  been  done  in  all  the  years  light-ships  have 
been  on  station.  Nobody  iver  heard  of  one  lavin'  its 
place  till  it  sank  or  was  ordered  into  port  to  be  relieved." 

Lethbridge  glanced  amusedly  at  the  chief  engineer. 
To-night  he  felt  himself  really  in  a  position  of  responsi 
bility,  and  he  was  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  it.  He 
stared  into  the  blackness  around  the  light-ship  with  an 
imperious  and  eager  air.  He  was  about  to  speak  when 
a  hoarse  cry  from  forward  drove  the  three  of  them  leap 
ing  outward.  Sunni's  quick  eyes  interpreted  the  call 
instantly.  "  Boat  alongside !  "  he  bellowed.  Lethbridge 
followed  his  outflung  arm  and  saw  a  faint,  twinkling 
gleam  to  windward,  a  mere  matchlight  of  a  glow,  deep 
in  the  howling  smother  of  darkness.  His  quick  hands 
felt  along  the  rail  and  clutched  a  heaving-line.  He  saw 
Sunni,  still  bellowing  orders,  come  to  a  stand  by  the 
pilot-house,  and  knew  that  he,  too,  held  a  line  ready  to 
cast  when  the  boat,  if  boat  it  were,  came  within  casting 
distance. 

Out  of  the  forward  hatch  men  poured  like  shot  from 
a  bottle,  scurrying  to  their  stations,  bearing  lanterns, 
flinging  coils  of  rope  on  the  deck,  crying  out  to  each 
other.  And  overhead  the  huge  lamps  blazed  steadily, 
careering  through  the  great  arc  of  darkness,  while  the 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  31 

feeble  glimmer  to  windward  vanished,  reappeared, 
showed  brightly  an  instant  and  then  dimmed.  Leth- 
bridge  heard  the  chief  engineer's  voice  beside  him. 
"  'T  is  a  boat,"  he  said  calmly. 

It  was  a  boat.  It  suddenly  appeared  almost  under 
the  bluff  bows  of  the  light-ship,  uprose  on  a  crested 
wave,  swerved  wildly,  sank  into  the  boiling  trough  and 
swung  up  on  the  next  hurtling  sea.  From  forward  a 
rope  swished  outboard.  Lethbridge  saw  some  one  in 
the  little  craft  make  a  stiff,  helpless  gesture,  and  knew 
that  the  line  had  fallen  short.  He  saw  Sunni  clamber 
upon  the  rail  as  it  dived  down,  balance  himself  and 
throw  out  his  arm.  Again  he  saw  the  helpless  gestures 
of  the  huddled  people  in  the  boat  and  realized  that  they 
were  numb  with  cold,  fast  perishing,  unable  to  reach 
out  quickly  for  a  line.  His  own  coil  lay  in  his  hand; 
he  waited  till  another  driving  sea  lifted  the  little  craft 
almost  level  with  the  light-ship's  rail  and  then  flung  it 
out.  He  saw  frantic  graspings,  heard  a  feeble  shout; 
the  man  in  the  stern  dropped  his  oar  and  fell  forward, 
clutching  at  something.  But  the  rope's  end  came  slack 
into  his  hand  and  he  knew  that  his  cast  had  failed.  In 
desperation  he  leaped  for  another  rope  and  realized  that 
O'Rourke  was  yelling  down  at  the  shipwrecked  boat's 
crew  to  "  Hang  on !  "  He  vaguely  saw  the  little  Irish 
man  fling  an  arm  upward,  thought  he  saw  a  line  uncoil 
in  the  air  and  fall  across  the  sodden  craft  that  now 
barely  appeared  in  the  seething  water  under  the  counter. 
He  leaped  and  caught  hold  of  O'Rourke's  arm.  He 
felt  a  thin  wet  rope  come  taut.  O'Rourke  yelled  furi- 


32      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

ously,  hanging  to  it  and  shuffling  aft  to  the  pull  of  it. 
Sunni  ran  up,  trying  to  tear  a  tangled  line  apart. 

"  We  've  got  'em,  and  it 's  Rasmussen,"  O'Rourke 
bawled. 

Lethbridge  jumped  to  the  rail  and  peered  down.  A 
sweeping  gleam  from  the  high  lanterns  crossed  the  little 
boat  and  displayed  its  plight.  White  faces  stared  up. 
Stiff  arms  swung  imploringly  towards  the  lofty  lan 
terns.  The  man  in  the  stern  turned  his  sodden,  stern 
visage  to  Lethbridge  for  one  instant.  He  recognized 
the  captain  of  the  Gull.  Then  he  noticed  a  woman's 
eyes  on  him.  He  stared  down  fascinatedly.  What  was 
a  woman  doing  in  that  sinking  boat?  How  had  she 
come  there  ?  Who  was  she  ?  He  cursed  Rasmussen  in 
a  sudden,  unreasoning  access  of  rage.  His  words  did 
not  carry  a  fathom.  The  wind  whipped  them  to  itself. 
The  passing  gleam  swept  on.  The  boat  vanished  in  the 
darkness.  O'Rourke  seized  him  with  both  hands  and 
cried :  "  The  loine  did  n't  hould,  misther !  "  He  showed 
the  frayed  end  of  it  in  proof. 

Instantly  Lethbridge  came  to  himself.  "  That  boat 
can't  live  another  half  hour,"  he  roared.  "  We  '11  up 
anchor  and  get  it !  " 

He  plunged  away,  yelling :  "  Chief,  get  your  engines 
turning  and  full  head  of  steam  up.  Mr.  Sunni,  un 
shackle  the  cable  and  slip  it.  Unlock  that  pilot-house, 
somebody !  Stand  by,  men,  and  we  '11  go  and  get  those 
people." 

A  wild  shout  echoed  up  from  the  depths  of  the  light 
ship.  A  fireman  appeared  in  the  light  from  the  cabin 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  33 

hatch  and  vanished  below.  A  sailor  cried  out  that  the 
wheel-house  was  open.  Two  others  slashed  furiously  at 
the  lashings  of  the  steering  chains  and  took  the  stoppers 
off  the  big  helm.  Lethbridge  threw  his  full  voice  into 
his  next  order :  "  Ring  the  engines  full  speed  ahead ! 
Hurry,  boys,  and  we  '11  go  get  'em.  There  's  a  woman 
among  them !  " 

Suddenly  he  realized  that  two  men  had  not  moved. 
The  mate  and  the  chief  engineer  stood  peering  into  the 
darkness  in  which  the  boat  had  been  swallowed  up.  He 
seized  at  them  both  with  rough  hands.  "  Chief,  get 
down  to  your  engines.  What  do  you  mean  by  stopping 
up  here  ?  Give  me  full  power  as  quickly  as  you 
can.  Mr.  Sunni,  why  don't  you  get  along  and  unshackle 
that  anchor?  My  God,  man,  seconds  count!  That 
boat  will  sink  before  we  can  get  down  to  her  and  pick 
her  up." 

O'Rourke's  bright  eyes  turned  to  his  superior.  "  Yer 
the  skipper,"  he  croaked ;  "  but  no  orders  does  Mickey 
O'Rourke  give  in  the  engine-room  this  night  if  ye  leave 
the  station." 

Lethbridge  stared,  choked,  and  wrung  the  Irishman's 
arm.  "  You  refuse  duty  ?  "  he  roared.  "  You  coward ! 
Get  down  to  your  engines  and  we  '11  save  that  boat  and 
its  passengers." 

"  Oi  'm  no  coward,"  said  O'Rourke  defiantly.  "  But 
Oi  've  tin  years'  service,  honest  and  true,  behind  me ; 
and  no  engines  do  I  turn  to  leave  the  station.  Orders 
are  orders,  sor." 

In  answer,  Lethbridge  stepped  aside  and  jerked  the 


34      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

bellhandle.  Far  down  in  the  bowels  of  the  ship  a 
gong  clanged.  O'Rourke's  mustache  bristled.  "  Ye  're 
a  lad  widout  sinse,"  he  stormed.  "  We  did  our  best 
for  that  boat  and  no  more  can  Saint  Peter  do.  But 
Oi  '11  not  turn  the  engines  to  leave  the  station.  Nor 
will  Macpherson,  ayther." 

Sunni  turned  his  white,  lined  face  to  his  superior. 
"  The  chief  is  right,  sir,"  he  said  almost  humbly.  "  I 
don't  think  you  understand,  sir.  We  cant  leave  our 
station." 

A  sailor  leaped  aft,  dripping  spray.  "  All 's  clear, 
sir,"  he  cried. 

Lethbridge  gazed  through  the  wind-driven  darkness 
at  his  two  officers.  Within  him  he  felt  a  terrible  dis 
gust,  too  deep  for  open  rage.  His  soul  flamed,  and 
he  had  thoughts  of  killing  them  as  they  stood.  But 
somehow  their  attitude  balked  him.  In  all  his  ex 
perience  at  sea  he  had  never  run  against  this  stolid 
disobedience.  Time  and  again  he  had  seen  men  whom 
he  despised  cheerfully  take  risks;  there  was  no  risk 
in  steaming  after  the  sinking  small  boat  and  rescu 
ing  her  drowning  crew  —  and  the  woman.  What  was 
this  that  held  his  two  subordinates  like  stone  against 
his  will  ? 

And  as  he  gazed  at  them  through  smarting  eyes  the 
tremendous  weight  of  their  obstinacy  bore  down  on  him. 
He  knew  them  for  men  of  long  service ;  men  who  had 
suffered  and  endured,  and  would  suffer  and  endure 
again.  He  despised  O'Rourke,  but  O'Rourke  was  no 
coward.  Sunni  was  old  and  unfit  for  active  duty,  but 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  35 

Sunni  was  a  seaman  and  had  never  faltered,  so  far 
as  he  knew.  What  was  it  ?  What  was  it  ? 

O'Rourke's  harsh  voice  explained  it  again,  baldly: 
"  It 's  orders,  misther,  not  to  leave  our  station.  Ship 
that  I  was  on  niver  did  yet,  and  won't  while  Oi  'm 
chief  engineer." 

Lethbridge  turned  to  his  mate.  Sunni  answered  him 
with  difficulty.  "  It 's  down  in  the  book  that  we  all 
signed,"  he  said  monotonously.  "  We  all  signed  it  when 
we  entered  the  service.  We  can't  slip  our  moorings, 
sir.  It 's  Order  No.  113." 

The  prodigious  earnestness  of  the  two  men  appalled 
Lethbridge.  He  perceived  his  own  helplessness.  Yet  a 
boat  filled  with  dying  people  was  being  driven  through 
the  foaming  seas  not  a  mile  away  and  No.  188  could 
save  them.  It  was  so  simple  to  slip  the  cable  and  steam 
after  them.  But  it  was  impossible.  The  single  obedi 
ence  of  these  two  men  to  an  old  order  set  up  a  barrier 
that  even  Lethbridge  could  not  break  through.  They 
seemed  to  embody  the  tremendous  and  awful  authority 
of  a  vast  department  of  the  Government;  they  bore  him 
down,  crushed  his  noble  and  seamanlike  impulses  under 
the  terrific  weight  of  precedent,  of  dull  rules,  of  office- 
made  orders.  He  rebelled.  But  his  rebellion  wais 
merely  a  curse  on  them ;  "  You  would  n't  break  a  rule 
to  save  a  woman's  life,  you  d  —  d  foreigners !  " 

O'Rourke  thrust  his  grimy  fist  into  Lethbridge's  face. 
"  Oi  'm  an  American,"  he  said  with  deadly  meaning. 
"  And  Misther  Sunni  is  an  American  —  betther  Ameri 
can  than  you  are,  ye  cocky  young  sprig.  Misther  Sunni 


36      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

and  I  both  took  the  oath  of  allegiance,  which  is  more 
than  iver  you  or  your  loikes  did;  and  whin  we  swore 
to  obey  the  Governmint  we  meant  it,  and  we  Ve  done 
it,  fair  weather  and  foul." 

Lethbridge  stared  and  laughed.  Yet  he  felt  some 
thing  of  the  truth  behind  the  engineeer's  words.  He 
recalled  that  Macpherson  had  not  answered  his  gong 
signal.  But  what  he  was  on  the  point  of  saying  was 
never  uttered,  for  a  sailor  came  running  aft  to  say, 
"  There 's  a  steamer  for' ad,  sir ;  showing  signals, 
sir." 

Lethbridge  peered  into  the  darkness  and  saw  the 
gleaming  lights  of  a  liner.  In  her  rigging  rows  of 
lights  showed  that  she  was  anxious  to  be  spoken.  Leth 
bridge  turned.  "  What  do  you  make  of  that  signal  ?  " 

The  mate  wiped  his  eyes  out  with  his  cuff  and  said 
dully,  "  That 's  the  big  Rose  City,  sir.  She  wants  to 
know  if  we  are  on  our  station." 

"  She  's  lost !  "  said  O'Kourke.  "  Lucky  fer  her  she 
picked  up  our  lights.  Another  half  hour  on  the  course 
she  was  goin'  and  she  and  all  her  hundreds  o'  passengers 
would  be  poundin'  in  the  surf." 

Lethbridge's  voice  barely  carried  to  the  mate.  "  Just 
signal  her  that  No.  188  is  on  her  station,"  he  said. 

The  mate  lifted  his  hand  in  response  and  plodded 
wearily  forward,  a  bent  and  broken  figure  of  a  man, 
lurching  to  the  pitch  and  surge  of  the  light-ship's  deck. 
He  was  muttering  to  himself,  "  She  '11  understand  it 
was  orders  .  .  .  Order  No.  113." 

O'Rourke,  by  himself  on  the  after  deck,  was  on  his 


37 

knees  by  the  bitts  praying  for  the  soul  of  Lars  Rass- 
mussen,  who  had  once  saved  his  life. 

Lethbridge,  hanging  to  the  pinrail  at  the  foremast, 
was  staring  blindly  out  at  the  liner,  now  hove  to  a 
mile  out;  he  realized  poignantly  that  the  authority  of 
the  great  Establishment  which  he  served  had  saved 
those  lives  on  the  Rose  City.  Yet  he  was  dumb  before 
the  sacrifice  of  the  Gull's  crew.  No.  188,  he  knew, 
could  have  steamed  after  that  sinking  boat  and  rescued 
them  all,  including  the  white-faced  woman.  And  yet 
—  he  went  down  and  tore  up  his  report  to  the  com 
mander,  the  report  in  which  he  had  asked  for  new 
officers  instead  of  O'Rourke,  Sunni  and  Macpherson. 
But  he  did  not  know  the  extent  of  the  devotion  to  duty 
that  had  made  possible  that  bold  signal  at  the  masthead : 
"  We  Are  On  Our  Station."  For  Michael  O'Rourke, 
Irish-American,  and  Nicholas  Sunni,  Finnish-Ameri 
can,  did  n't  tell. 


38      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

II 

TAD    SHELDON,    SECOND    CLASS   SCOTJT 

THEEE  is  no  har-rm  in  the  story,  though  it  speaks  ill 
for  us  big  people  with  Misther  to  our  names,"  said 
Chief  Engineer  Mickey  O'Rourke,  balancing  his  coffee 
cup  between  his  two  scarred  hands.  "  Ye  remimber 
the  lasht  toime  I  was  on  leave  —  and  I  wint  down  to 
Yaquina  Bay  with  Captain  Tyler  on  his  tin  gas  schooner, 
thinkin'  to  mesilf  it  was  a  holiday  —  and  all  the  fun 
I  had  was  insthructin'  the  gasoline  engineer  in  the  mys 
teries  of  how  to  expriss  one's  sintimints  without  injurin' 
the  skipper's  f  eelin's  ?  Well,  I  landed  in  the  bay  and 
walked  about  in  the  woods,  which  is  foine  for  the  smell 
of  thim  which  is  like  fresh  tar;  and  one  afternoon  I 
finds  two  legs  and  small  feet  stickin'  out  of  a  hole  under 
a  stump.  I  pulled  on  the  two  feet  and  the  legs  came 
out  and  at  the  end  of  thim  a  bhoy,  mad  with  rage  and 
dirt  in  his  eyes. 

"  *  Ye  have  spoiled  me  fun !  '  says  he,  lookin'  at  me 
very  fierce. 

"  '  Do  yez  dig  yer  fun  out  of  the  ground  like  coal  ? ' 
I  demands. 

"  '  I  'm  investigatin'  the  habits  of  squirrels,'  says  he. 
'  I  must  find  out  how  a  squirrel  turns  round  in  his  hole. 
Does  he  turn  a  summersault  or  stick  his  tail  between 
his  ears  and  go  over  backward  ? ' 

"  '  He  turns  inside  out,  like  an  ould  sock,'  I  informs 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  39 

him,  and  he  scorns  me  natural  history.  On  the  strength 
of  mutual  language  we  get  acquainted.  He  is  Tad 
Sheldon,  the  eldest  son  of  Surfman  No.  1,  of  the  life- 
saving  crew.  He  is  fourteen  years  ould.  Me  bould 
Tad  has  troubles  of  his  own,  consisting  of  five  other 
youngsters  who  are  his  gang.  '  We  are  preparing  to 
inter  the  ranks  of  the  Bhoy  Scouts,'  he  tells  me,  settin' 
be  the  side  of  the  squirrel-hole.  '  We  are  all  tender- 
feet  and  we  can't  get  enlisted  with  the  rest  of  the  bhoys 
in  the  United  States  because  each  scout  must  have  a 
dollar  in  the  bank  and  between  the  six  of  us  we  have 
only  one  dollar  and  six  bits  and  that 's  in  me  mother's 
apron  pocket  and  in  no  bank  at  all.' 

"  '  Explain,'  says  I. 

"  '  'T  is  this  way,'  says  me  young  sprig.  '  All  the 
bhoys  in  the  country  of  America  have  joined  the  scouts, 
which  is  an  army  of  felleys  that  know  the  woods  and 
about  animals  and  how  to  light  a  fire,  and  know  the 
law.' 

"  '  Stop ! '  I  orders.  '  No  one  knows  the  law  without 
gold  in  one  hand  and  a  book  in  the  other.  If  ye  knew 
the  law  ye  would  have  yer  dollar.' 

"  ( 'T  is  the  scouts'  law,'  says  he.  '  It  tells  ye  to 
obey  yer  superiors  and  be  fair  to  animals  and  kind  to 
people  ye  care  little  for.  Ye  must  know  how  to  take 
care  of  yourself  anywhere  and  be  ready  whin  the 
counthry  needs  ye.' 

"  '  And  ye  need  a  dollar  ? '  I  asks.  '  Thin,  why  not 
work  for  it  and  stop  pokin'  yer  nose  down  squirrel- 
holes,  where  there  is  neither  profit  nor  wages  ? ' 


40      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  '  Because  I  'm  to  be  the  pathrol-leader  and  I  must 
know  more  than  me  men/  he  retorts. 

"  Now,  ye  remimber  I  had  in  me  pocket  three  pay 
checks,  besides  the  money  of  Mr.  Lof,  the  second  engi 
neer,  which  I  had  got  for  him  and  was  carryin'  about 
to  send  to  him  by  the  first  friend  I  saw.  So  I  took 
off  me  cap  and  pulled  out  one  of  the  checks  and  said: 

I  Me  bould  bhoy,  go  down  to  the  town  and  get  the  cash 
for  this.    Bring  it  back  to  me  and  I  '11  give  ye  a  dollar ; 
and  thin  ye  can  become  a  scout.' 

"  The  lad  looked  at  me  and  then  at  the  Governmint 
check.  He  shook  his  head  till  the  dirt  rolled  into  his 
ears,  for  he  was  still  full  of  the  clods  he  had  rubbed 
into  himsilf  in  the  hole.  '  I  can't  take  a  dollar  from 
a  man  in  the  service,'  he  says.  i  I  must  earn  it.' 

"  '  The  Governmint's  money  is  clane,'  I  rebukes  him. 

I 1  'm  ould  and  me  legs  ends  just  above  me  feet,  so 
that  I  walk  with  difficulty.     'T  is  worth  a  dollar  to  get 
the  coin  without  trampin'.' 

"  '  I  will  earn  it  from  somebody  not  in  the  service/ 
says  me  bould  bhoy,  with  great  firmness. 

"  '  I  'm  no  surf  man,  thank  Hivin ! '  I  remarks.  '  I  'm 
in  the  establishmint  and  look  down  on  ye.' 

"  '  If  I  'd  known  ye  were  a  lighthouse  man  I  'd  have 
taken  all  ye  had  at  first/  he  retorts.  '  But  ye  have 
made  me  a  fair  offer  and  I  forgive  ye.  My  father 
works  for  his  living.' 

"  Ye  know  how  the  life-savers  and  the  lighthouse 
people  pass  language  between  thim  whin  they  meet. 
The  lad  and  I  exchanged  complimints,  but  he  spared 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  41 

me  because  I  had  gray  hairs.  '  In  time  ye  will  be 
come  a  keeper  of  a  station  and  perform  for  the  idifica- 
tion  of  the  summer  gur-rl/  I  concludes.  '  But,  if  ye 
were  more  industhrious  and  had  more  iducation,  ye 
might  in  time  get  into  the  establishmint  and  tind  a 
third-order  light.' 

"  '  Why  should  I  bury  mesilf  among  ould  min  without 
arms  and  legs  ? '  he  inquires  haughtily.  '  Me  youngest 
sister  clanes  the  lamps  in  our  house  with  a  dirty  rag 
and  an  ould  toothbrush.' 

"  '  Well/  says  I,  seein'  that  it  was  poor  fortune  to 
be  quarrelin'  with  a  slip  of  a  kid,  '  do  yez  want  the 
dollar  or  not  ? ' 

"  And  at  that  we  got  down  to  facts  and  he  explained 
that  this  scout  business  was  most  important.  It  ap 
peared  that  the  other  five  bhoys  depinded  on  him  to 
extricate  thim  from  their  difficulties  and  set  them  all  up 
as  scouts,  with  uniforms  and  knives  and  a  knowledge 
of  wild  animals  and  how  to  build  a  fire  in  a  bucket 
of  watther.  We  debated  the  thing  back  and  forth  till 
the  sun  dropped  behind  the  trees  and  the  could  air 
came  up  from  the  ground  and  stuck  me  with  needles 
of  rheumatism. 

"  The  lad  was  a  good  lad  and  he  made  plain  to  me 
why  his  dollar  was  har-rd  to  get.  He  had  thought  of 
savin'  the  life  of  a  summer  visitor,  but  the  law  read 
that  he  must  save  life  anyhow,  without  lookin'  for  pay. 
1  And  we  can't  all  save  lives,'  he  mourns ;  '  for  some 
of  the  kids  is  too  young.' 

"  '  But  ye  must  earn  money,  ye  scut/  I  says.    '  Ye  're 


42      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

fourteen  and  whin  I  was  that  age  I  was  me  mother's 
support  and  joy.  I  made  four  shillin's  a  wake  mixin' 
plaster  for  a  tile-layer.' 

" '  I  work,'  he  responds  dolefully.  *  But  it  goes  to 
me  mother  to  put  with  the  savings  in  the  bank  against 
the  time  me  father  will  be  drownded  and  leave  us  with 
out  support,  for  ye  must  know  that  we  life-savers  get 
no  pensions.' 

"  '  I.  niver  hear-rd  of  a  life-saver  bein'  drownded,' 
I  remarks.  l  But  it  may  be,  for  I  see  ye  are  of  an 
exthraordinary  family  and  anything  may  come  to  such. 
How  many  are  there  of  yez  ? ' 

"  '  There  are  six  of  us  childher,  all  gur-rls  but  mesilf/ 
says  he,  with  rage  in  his  voice.  {  And  Carson  —  he 
was  No.  4  —  broke  his  hip  in  a  wreck  last  year  and  died 
of  the  bruise  and  left  five,  which  the  crew  is  lookin' 
after.  Young  Carson  is  one  of  me  gang  and  makes  a 
dollar  and  four  bits  a  week  deliverin'  clams  to  the  sum 
mer  folks.  Ye  see  he  can't  save  a  dollar  for  the  bank.' 
'And  we  got  up  and  discussed  the  matther  going  down 
the  hill  toward  the  town.  Before  we  parted  Tad  tould 
me  where  he  lived. 

"  '  I  M  call  on  yer  father  and  mother,'  says  I,  *  if  I 
cud  be  sure  they  would  appreciate  the  honor.  'T  is  a 
comedown  for  an  officer  in  the  lighthouse  establishmint 
to  inter  the  door  of  a  surf  man.' 

"  '  Me  father  has  a  kind  heart  and  is  good  to  the 
ould,'  he  answers  me.  f  We  live  beyond  the  station,  on 
the  bluff.' 

"  With  that  we  went  our  ways  and  I  ate  an  imminse 


MICHAEL    O'ROTJRKE  43 

meal  in  the  hotel  with  the  dishes  all  spread  out  before 
me  —  and  a  pretty  gur-rl  behind  me  shoulder  to  point 
out  the  best  of  thim.  Thin  I  walked  out  and  started 
for  the  house  of  me  bould  Tad. 

"  I  found  thim  all  seated  in  the  parlor  excipt  the 
missus,  who  was  mixin'  bread  in  the  kitchen.  I  inthro- 
duced  mesilf,  and  Sheldon,  who  had  No.  1  on  his  sleeve, 
offered  me  a  pipe,  which  I  took.  I  came  down  to  busi 
ness,  houldin'  me  cap  full  of  checks  and  money  on  me 
lap.  '  Yer  bould  bhoy  wants  to  be  a  scout  and  lacks  a 
dollar,'  I  says.  '  I  like  his  looks,  though  I  discovered 
him  in  a  hole  under  a  tree.  He  won't  take  me  money 
and  scorns  me  and  the  establishmint.' 

" '  He  must  earn  it,'  he  answers,  scowlin'  over  his 
pipe. 

"  'But  I  '11  spind  it,'  I  insists,  peerin'  at  the  bhoy  out 
of  the  tail  of  me  eye.  '  If  yer  town  were  n't  dhry  I  'd 
have  given  it  to  the  saloon  man  for  the  good  of  the  family 
he  has  n't  got.  So  why  bilge  at  a  single  dollar  ? ' 

"  '  'T  is  the  scout's  law,'  puts  in  me  bould  Tad.  '  I 
must  make  it  honestly.'  And  he  settled  his  head  between 
his  hands  and  gazed  reproachfully  at  the  clane  floor. 
So  I  saved  me  money  and  sat  till  eight  o'clock  exchangin' 
complimints  with  Misther  Sheldon.  Thin  the  bell  rang 
on  the  hill  beyond  the  station  and  he  pulled  his  cap  off 
the  dresser,  kissed  his  wife  and  the  five  gur-rls  and  wint 
out  to  his  watch  and  a  good  sleep.  Whin  he  was  gone 
I  stood  in  the  doorway  and  Missus  Sheldon  tould  me  of 
the  little  Carsons  and  how  Missus  Carson  had  sworn 
niver  to  marry  again  excipt  in  the  life-saving  service. 


'  She  says  the  Governmint  took  away  her  husband  and 
her  support,'  says  the  good  lady,  '  and  she  '11  touch  no 
money  excipt  Governmint  checks,  bein'  used  to  thim  and 
Uncle  Sam  owin'  her  the  livin'  he  took  away.' 

"  '  With  five  childher  she  shud  look  up  and  marry 
one  of  the  men  in  the  establishmint,'  I  informs  her. 
'  They  are  good  husbands  and  make  money.' 

"  '  Though  a  widow,  she  has  pride,'  she  responds 
sharply;  and  I  left,  with  young  Tad  follerin'  at  me 
heels  till  I  let  him  overtake  me  and  whisper :  '  If  ye  'd 
buy  some  clams  off  of  young  Carson  it  wud  help  the 
widow.' 

"  '  I  am  starved  for  clams,'  I  whispers  back  like  a 
base  conspirator  for  the  hand  of  the  lovely  gur-rl  in  the 
castle.  '  Show  me  the  house  of  me  bould  Carson.'  He 
pointed  to  a  light  through  the  thin  woods. 

"  They  thought  I  was  crazy  whin  I  returned  to  the 
hotel  with  a  hundred  pounds  of  clams  dripping  down  me 
back.  '  I  dug  thim  with  me  own  hands  this  night/  I 
tould  the  man  in  the  office.  '  Cook  thim  all  for  me 
breakfast.' 

"  f  Ye  're  a  miracle  of  strength  and  endurance  under 
watther,'  says  he ;  (  for  't  is  now  high  tide  and  the  surf 
is  heavy.' 

"  '  I  found  their  tracks  in  the  road  and  followed  thim 
to  their  lair,'  I  retorts.  '  Do  I  get  thim  for  breakfast  ? ' 

"  And  in  the  mor-rnin',  whin  I  was  that  full  of  clams 
that  I  needed  a  shell  instead  of  a  weskit,  I  walked  on  the 
beach  with  the  admirin'  crowds  of  summer  tourists  and 
lovely  women.  It  was  fine  weather  and  the  little  ones 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  45 

were  barefooted  and  the  old  ones  bareheaded,  and  the 
wind  was  gentle,  and  the  life-savers  were  polishin'  their 
boat  in  full  view  of  the  wondherin'  throng;  and  I 
thought  of  this  ould  tub  out  here  on  the  ind  of  a  chain 
and  pitied  yez  all.  Thin  I  sthrolled  around  the  point 
to  the  bay  and  found  me  bould  Tad  dhrillin'  his  gang  in 
an  ould  skiff,  with  home-made  oars  in  their  little  fists  and 
Tad  sthandin'  in  the  stern-sheets,  with  a  huge  steerin' 
sweep  between  his  arms  and  much  loud  language  in  his 
mouth.  Whin  I  appeared  they  looked  at  me  and  Tad 
swung  his  boat  up  to  the  beach  and  invited  me  in.  '  We 
will  show  you  a  dhrill  ye  will  remimber,'  says  he,  very 
polite.  And  with  my  steppin'  in  he  thrust  the  skiff  off 
and  the  bhoys  rowed  with  tremenjous  strength.  We 
wint  along  a  full  three  knots  an  hour,  till  he  yelled  an 
other  ordher  and  the  bhoys  dropped  their  oars  and 
jumped  over  to  one  side ;  and  I  found  mesilf  undher  the 
boat,  with  me  mouth  full  of  salt  watther  and  ropes. 
Whin  I  saw  the  sun  again  me  bould  Tad  says  to  me  with 
disapprobation :  l  Ye  are  n't  experienced  in  capsize 
dhrill.' 

"  '  In  the  establishment  we  use  boats  to  keep  us  out 
of  the  watther/  I  responds,  hunting  for  the  papers  out 
of  me  cap.  '  The  newspapers  are  full  of  rebukes  for 
thim  that  rock  boats  to  their  own  peril.'  With  that 
they  all  felt  ashamed  and  picked  up  me  papers  and 
grunted  at  each  other,  tryin'  to  blame  somebody  else. 
And  whin  I  had  me  checks  and  me  papers  all  safe  again 
I  smiled  on  thim  and  me  bould  Tad  took  heart.  '  'T  is 
not  to  tip  the  boat  over,'  says  he,  '  but  to  get  it  back 


46      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

on  an  even  keel  after  a  sea  's  capsized  her  —  that  is  the 
point  of  the  dhrill.'  And  we  pulled  ashore  to  dhry. 

"  Whiles  we  were  sittin'  on  the  sand  drainin'  the 
watther  out  of  our  shoes  a  small,  brassy  launch  came 
down  the  bay,  with  manny  men  and  women  on  her  little 
decks.  Me  bould  Tad  looked  at  her  with  half-shut 
eyes  and  snorted.  l  Some  day  it  will  be  the  life-saving 
crew  that  must  bring  those  ninnies  back  to  their  homes,' 
he  says.  *  The  Pacific  is  nothing  to  fool  with  in  a  gaso 
line  launch.  'T  is  betther  to  be  safe  and  buy  your  fish.' 
And  we  watched  the  launch  chug  by  and  out  on  the  bar 
and  to  sea.  I  learned  that  she  was  the  Gladys  by  name 
and  fetched  tourists  to  the  fishing  grounds,  nine  miles 
down  the  coast. 

"  All  the  bhoys  were  respictful  to  me  excipt  young 
Carson,  who  recognized  in  me  bould  Mickey  the  man 
who  had  asked  for  a  hundredweight  of  clams.  He  stared 
at  me  superciliously  and  refused  to  have  speech  with  me, 
bein'  ashamed,  if  I  can  judge  of  his  youthful  thoughts, 
of  bein'  in  the  same  company  with  a  fool. 

"  But  I  discovered  that  the  gang  was  all  bent  on  be- 
comin'  what  they  called  second-class  scouts,  which  they 
made  plain  to  me  was  betther  by  one  than  a  tenderfoot. 
But  they  niver  mintioned  the  lackings  of  the  dollar,  bein' 
gintlemin.  They  wanted  to  know  of  me  whether  I 
thought  that  boatmanship  and  knowledge  of  sailing 
would  be  accipted  be  the  powers  instid  of  wisdom  as  to 
bird-tracks  and  intimacy  with  wild  animals  and  bugs. 
And  the  heart  of  me  opened,  the  youth  of  me  came  back ; 
and  I  spoke  to  thim  as  one  lad  to  another,  with  riferince 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  47 

to  me  years  in  a  steamer  and  the  need  of  hard  hands  and 
a  hard  head. 

"  The  ind  of  it  was  that  they  rowled  across  the  sand 
to  me  side  and  we  all  lay  belly  down  over  a  chart,  which 
me  bould  Tad  had  procured  after  the  manner  of  bhoys, 
and  they  explained  to  me  how  they  knew  the  coast  for 
twelve  miles  each  side  of  Yaquina  Bay,  with  the  tides 
and  currents  all  plain  in  their  heads.  And  I  was  sur 
prised  at  what  the  young  scuts  knew  —  God  save 
thim! 

"  At  noon  the  visitors  suddenly  stopped  lookin'  at  the 
scenery  and  hastened  away  with  hunger  in  their  eyes. 
The  crew  ran  the  surfboat  back  into  the  station  and  the 
bhoys  drew  their  skiff  up  out  of  har-rm's  way;  and  I 
wint  back  to  me  hotel  and  more  clams.  On  the  steps  I 
found  young  Carson,  grinnin'  like  a  cat. 

"  '  Ye  don't  have  to  eat  thim  shell  fish,'  says  he, 

7  «/  7 

lookin'  away.  '  Gimme  the  sack  of  thim  and  I  '11  peddle 
thim  to  the  tourists  and  bring  ye  the  money.' 

"  '  Whisht  and  away  with  ye ! }  I  commanded.  '  Who 
are  you  to  be  dictatin'  the  diet  of  yer  betthers  \ '  And 
he  fled,  without  glancin'  behind  him. 

"  There  was  some  remar-rks  passed  upon  me  wet 
clothes,  but  I  tould  the  clerk  in  the  office  that  me  duty 
often  called  me  to  get  drippin'  soaked  and  went  into  the 
dinin'  room  with  a  stiff  neck  under  me  proud  chin. 
There  was  but  few  in  the  place  and  the  gur-rl  who  stood 
by  me  shoulder  to  pilot  me  through  the  various  coorses 
infor-rmed  me  that  the  most  of  the  guests  were  out  on 
the  Gladys  fishin'.  '  And  the  most  of  thim  will  have 


48      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

little  appetite  for  their  dinners/  she  mused  gently, 
thereby  rebukin'  me  for  a  second  helpin'  of  the  fresh 
meat. 

"  In  the  afternoon  I  sthrolled  out  on  the  beach  again, 
but  saw  little.  A  heavy  fog  was  rowlin'  from  the  nor'- 
ard  and  the  breeze  before  it  was  chill  and  damp  as  a 
widow's  bed.  I  walked  for  me  health  for  an  hour  and 
then  ran  to  kape  war-rm.  At  the  ind  of  my  spurt  I  was 
amazed  to  find  mesilf  exactly  at  the  hotel  steps.  I  wint 
in  and  laid  me  down  be  the  fire  and  slept.  I  woke  to 
hear  a  woman  wailin'. 

"  Whin  me  eyes  were  properly  open,  and  both  pointed 
in  the  same  direction,  I  found  mesilf  in  the  midst  of  a 
crowd.  The  sittin'  room  was  full  of  people,  all  with 
misery  in  their  faces.  The  woman  whose  cries  had  woke 
me  was  standin'  be  the  windey,  with  one  hand  around 
a  handkerchief.  '  My  God ! '  she  was  sayin'  —  '  My 
God !  And  me  bhoy  is  on  that  boat !  '  And  I  knew  that 
it  was  throuble  and  that  many  people  would  have  their 
heads  in  their  hands  that  night,  with  aches  in  their 
throats.  I  got  up  —  shoes  in  me  hand.  At  sight  of  me 
bright  unif or-rm  ten  men  flung  themselves  on  me.  '  You 
will  help  save  them  ? '  they  cried  at  me. 

"  1 1  will  so  soon  as  I  get  me  shoes  on,'  I  remar-rked, 
pushing  them  off  me  toes.  I  put  on  me  boots  and  stood 
up.  '  Now  I  '11  save  thim,'  says  I.  '  Where  are  they  ? ' 

" '  They  're  on  the  Gladys,'  says  three  at  once. 
1  Thirty  of  our  people  —  women  and  men  and  childher.' 

"  '  Why  wake  me  ? '  I  demanded  crosslike.  '  Are  n't 
the  brave  life-savers  even  now  sitting  be  the  fire  waitin' 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  49 

for  people  to  come  and  be  saved  ?  I  'm  a  chief  engineer 
in  the  lighthouse  establishmint  and  we  save  no  lives 
excipt  whin  we  can't  help  it.  Get  the  life-saving  crew.' 

"  And  they  explained  to  me  bould  Mickey  that  the 
crew  was  gone  twenty  miles  up  the  coast  to  rescue  the 
men  on  a  steam  schooner  that  was  wrecked  off  the  Siletz, 
word  of  it  having  come  down  but  two  hours  since.  They 
looked  at  me  unifor-rm  and  demanded  their  relatives  at 
me  hands.  I  shoved  thim  away  and  wint  out  to  think. 
In  the  prociss  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  Gladys  might 
not  be  lost.  I  wint  back  and  asked  thim  how  they  knew 
it  was  time  to  mourn.  ( If  that  launch  is  ashore  they 
are  as  close  to  the  fire  as  they  can  get/  I  tould  thim. 
'  And  if  she  has  gone  down  't  is  too  late  to  dhry  their 
stockings.' 

"  '  She  is  lost  in  the  fog,'  I  was  infor-rmed.  She  shud 
have  been  back  at  her  wharf  at  four  o'clock.  'T  was 
now  turned  six  and  the  bar  was  rough  and  blanketed 
in  mist.  The  captain  of  the  harbor  tug  had  stated,  with 
wise  shakes  of  the  head,  that  the  Gladys  cud  do  no  more 
than  lay  outside  the  night  and  wait  for  sunshine  and  a 
smooth  crossing.  I  shoved  thim  away  from  me  again 
and  wint  out  to  think. 

"  It  was  a  mur-rky  fog,  the  sort  that  slathers  over  the 
watther  like  thick  oil.  Beyond  the  hill  I  cud  hear  the 
surf  pounding  like  a  riveter  in  a  boiler.  Overhead  was 
a  sheet  of  gray  cloud,  flying  in  curds  before  the  wind, 
and  in  me  mouth  was  the  taste  of  the  deep  sea,  blown  in 
upon  me  with  the  scent  of  the  storm.  Two  words  with 
the  skipper  of  the  tug  tould  me  the  rest.  '  It 's  coming 


50      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

on  to  blow  a  little  from  the  south' ard,'  said  me  bould 
mariner.  l  It 's  so  thick  the  Gladys  can't  find  her  way 
back.  Her  passengers  will  be  cold  and  hungry  whin 
they  retur-rn  in  the  mor-rninV 

"  '  And  will  ye  not  go  after  thim  ? ' 

"  '  I  can't/  says  he.  '  Me  steamer  is  built  for  the  bay 
and  one  sea  on  the  bar  wud  destroy  the  investmint.  The 
life-saving  crew  is  up  north  after  a  wreck.' 

"  '  Is  there  no  seagoin'  craft  in  this  harbor  ? '  I 
demands. 

"  *  There  is  not,'  says  he.  '  Captain  Tyler  took  his 
gas  schooner  down  the  coast  yesterday.' 

"  So  I  sat  down  and  thought,  wonderin'  how  I  cud 
sneak  off  me  unifor-rm  and  have  peace.  For  I  knew 
that  me  brass  buttons  wud  keep  me  tongue  busy  all  night 
explainin'  that  I  was  not  a  special  providence  paid  be 
the  Governmint  to  save  fools  from  purgat'ry.  In  me 
thoughts  I  heard  a  wor-rd  in  me  ear.  I  looked  up. 
'T  was  me  bould  Tad,  with  the  gang  clustherin'  at  his 
heels. 

"  '  Ye  have  followed  the  sea  for  many  years  ? '  says  he. 

"  *  I  have  followed  it  whin  it  was  fair  weather,'  I  re 
sponded,  '  but  the  most  of  the  time  the  sea  has  chased 
me  ahead  of  it.  Me  coattail  is  still  wet  from  the  times 
it  caught  me.  Speak  up !  What  is  it  ? ' 

"  The  bhoy  pulled  out  of  his  jacket  his  ould  chart  and 
laid  it  before  me.  '  The  Gladys  is  at  anchor  off  these 
rocks,'  says  he,  layin'  a  small  finger  on  a  spot.  (  And  in 
this  weather  she  will  have  to  lie  there  as  long  as  she 
can.  Whin  it  blows  she  must  up  anchor  and  get  out  or 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE          51 

go  ashore  here.'  He  moved  his  finger  a  mite  and  it 
rested  on  what  meant  rocks. 

"<Well«'Iremar-rks. 

"  '  Me  father  and  all  the  bhoys'  fathers  are  gone  up 
north  to  rescue  the  crew  of  a  steam  schooner  that 's 
wrecked.  Before  they  get  back  it  will  be  too  late.  I 
thought  — ' 

"  '  What  were  ye  thinkin',  ye  scut  ? '  says  I  fiercely. 

"  He  dropped  one  foot  on  the  other  and  looked  me 
between  the  eyes.  '  I  was  thinkin'  we  wud  go  afther  her 
and  save  her,'  says  he,  very  bould. 

"  I  cast  me  eyes  over  the  bunch  of  little  felleys  and 
laughed.  But  me  bould  Tad  did  n't  wink.  *  There  's 
people  out  there  drownding,'  says  he.  '  We  've  dhrilled 
and  we  know  all  the  ropes ;  but  we  can't  pull  our  skiff 
across  the  bar  and  the  big  boat  is  not  for  us,  bein'  the 
keeper's  orders.  And  we  have  n't  the  weight  to  pull  it 
anyhow.'  And  he  stared  me  out  of  me  laugh. 

"  '  There  's  no  seagoin'  craft  in  the  harbor,'  I  says,  to 
stop  his  nonsinse. 

"  l  There  is  another  launch,'  he  remar-rks  casually. 

"  We  looked  at  each  other  and  he  thin  says :  '  Can  ye 
run  a  gasoline  engine  ? ' 

"  '  I  have  had  to,'  I  infor-rms  him,  '  but  I  dislike  the 
smell.' 

" '  The  owner  of  this  launch  is  not  here,'  says  me 
young  sprig.  '  And  he  niver  tould  us  not  to  take  it. 
If  you  '11  run  the  engine  we  '11  be  off  and  rescue  the  folks 
on  the  Gladys!' 

"  Be  the  saints !  I  laughed  to  kill  mesilf ,  till  the  little 


52      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

brat  up  and  remar-rks  to  the  gang :  l  These  lighthouse 
officers  wear  a  unifor-rm  and  have  no  wor-rkin'  clothes 
at  all,  not  needin'  thim  in  their  business.' 

"  So  I  parleyed  with  thim  a  momint  to  save  me  face. 
'  And  how  will  ye  save  thim  that 's  dyin'  in  deep 
watthers  ? ' 

" '  By  to-morrow  nobody  can  cross  the  bar/  I  'm  in- 
for-rmed.  '  And  the  skipper  of  the  Gladys  don't  know 
this  coast.  We  '11  just  pick  him  up  and  pilot  him  in.' 

"  '  But  the  bar ! '  I  protests.  l  It 's  too  rough  to  cross 
a  launch  inwardbound,  even  if  ye  can  get  out.' 

" '  I  know  the  soft  places,'  says  the  little  sprig  of  a 
bhoy,  very  proudly.  (  Come  on.' 

"  '  And  if  I  don't  come  ? '  I  inquired. 

"  He  leaned  over  and  touched  the  brass  buttons  on  me 
jacket.  '  Ye  have  sworn  to  do  your  best,'  says  he.  '  I  've 
not  had  a  chance  to  take  me  oath  yet  as  a  second-class 
scout,  but  between  ourselves  we  have  done  so.  I  appeal 
to  yez  as  one  man  to  another.' 

"  I  got  up.  '  I  've  niver  expicted  to  serve  undher  so 
small  a  captain,'  I  remar-rks,  '  but  that  is  neither  here 
nor  there.  Where  is  that  gasoline  engine  ? ' 

"  We  stepped  proudly  off  in  the  dusk,  me  bould  Tad 
houldin'  himsilf  very  straight  beside  me  and  the  gang 
marchin'  at  our  heels  shouldher  to  shouldher.  Prisintly 
we  came  to  a  wharf  and  ridin'  to  the  float  below  it  was 
a  big  white  launch,  cabined  and  decked.  Tad  jumped 
down  and  the  gang  folleyed.  Thin  I  lowered  mesilf 
down  with  dignity  and  intered  the  miserable  engine 
room. 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  53 

"  I  have  run  every  sort  of  engine  and  machine  made 
by  experts  and  other  ignoramuses.  I  balk  at  nothing. 
The  engine  was  new  to  me,  but  I  lit  a  lantern  and  ex 
amined  its  inwards  with  anxiety  and  superciliousness. 
Prisintly,  by  the  grace  of  God,  it  started  off.  A  very 
small  bhoy  held  the  lantern  for  me  while  I  adjusted  the 
valves  and  the  carbureter,  and  this  bould  lad  infor-rmed 
me  with  pride  that  the  '  leader '  had  assigned  him  to 
me  as  my  engine-room  crew.  And  whin  the  machine 
was  revolvin'  with  some  speed  that  individual  thrust  his 
head  in  at  the  door  to  ask  me  if  I  was  ready.  *  If  ye 
are,'  says  that  limb  of  wickedness,  '  we  will  start, 
chief.' 

"  '  Ye  may  start  any  time,'  I  says,  with  great  respict. 
1  But  whin  we  '11  stop  is  another  matther.' 

"  '  Ye  must  keep  her  goin'  whiles  we  cross  the  bar,' 
he  infor-rms  me,  with  a  straight  look. 

"  The  little  gong  rang  and  I  threw  in  the  clutch  and 
felt  the  launch  slide  away.  The  jingle  came  and  I 
opened  her  up.  'T  was  a  powerful  machine  and  whin  I 
felt  the  jerk  and  pull  of  her  four  cylinders  I  sint  me 
assistant  to  find  the  gasoline  tank  and  see  wrhether  we 
had  oil  enough.  Thinks  I,  if  this  machine  eats  up  fuel 
like  this  we  must  e'en  have  enough  and  aplenty.  The 
bhoy  came  back  with  smut  on  his  nose  and  shtated  that 
the  tank  was  full. 

"  '  How  do  ye  know  ? '  I  demanded. 

"  '  I  've  helped  the  owner  fill  her  up  several  times,' 
says  the  brat.  f  The  leader  insists  that  we  know  the  in- 
sides  of  every  boat  on  the  bay.  'T  is  part  of  our  prac- 


54      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

tice  and  whin  we  get  to  be  scouts  we  will  all  learn  to 
run  gasoline  engines.' 

"  So  we  went  along  and  the  engines  war-rmed  up ; 
and  I  trimmed  the  lantern  and  sat  me  down  comfort 
able  as  a  cat  on  a  pan  of  dough.  Thin  there  was  a  hor 
rible  rumpus  on  deck  and  some  watther  splashed  down 
the  back  of  me  neck.  '  'T  is  the  bar,'  says  me  proud 
engine-room  crew,  balancin'  himsilf  on  the  plates. 

"  *  They  are  shovin'  dhrinks  across  it  too  fast  for  me/ 
I  retorts,  as  more  watther  simmers  down. 

"  '  Oh,  the  leader  knows  all  the  soft  places,'  he  re 
turns  proudly,  this  bould  sprig.  And  with  a  whoop  we 
drove  through  a  big  felley  that  almost  swamped  us. 
Thin,  so  far  as  I  cud  judge,  the  worst  was  over. 

"  Prisintly  we  got  into  the  trough  of  the  sea  and 
rowled  along  for  an  hour  more.  Then  the  jingle  tinkled 
and  I  slowed  down.  Me  bould  Tad  stuck  his  head  in  at 
the  little  door.  '  The  Gladys  is  right  inshore  from  us,' 
he  remar-rks,  careless-like.  '  We  will  signal  her  to  up 
anchor  and  come  with  us.'  He  took  me  lantern  and 
vanished. 

"  Whin  I  had  waited  long  enough  for  all  the  oil  to 
have  burned  out  of  three  lanterns  I  turned  the  engines 
over  to  me  crew  and  stepped  out  on  deck.  It  was  a 
weepin'  fog,  with  more  rowlin'  in  all  the  time,  and  the 
feel  on  me  cheek  was  like  that  of  a  stor-rm.  I  saw  me 
bould  Tad  on  the  little  for'a'd  deck,  swingin'  his  little 
lamp. 

"  '  What 's  the  matther  with  that  scut  of  a  skipper  ? ' 
I  inquires. 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  55 

"  The  bhoy  was  fair  cryin'  with  rage  and  shame. 
1  He  cannot  undherstand  the  signal/  says  he ;  '  and  't  is 
dangerous  to  run  closer  to  him  in  this  sea.' 

"  '  If  he  don't  undherstand  yer  signals,'  says  I,  '  't  is 
useless  to  talk  more  to  him  with  yer  ar-rms.  Use  yer 
tongue.' 

"  And  at  that  he  raised  a  squeal  that  cud  maybe  be 
heard  a  hundred  feet,  the  voice  of  him  bein'  but  a  bhoy's, 
without  noise  and  power.  '  Let  be,'  says  I.  '  I  've 
talked  me  mind  across  the  deep  watthers  many  times.' 
And  I  filled  me  lungs  and  let  out  a  blast  that  fetched 
everybody  on  deck  on  the  other  launch.  Thin  I  tould 
that  skipper,  with  rage  in  me  throat,  that  he  must  up 
anchor  and  folley  us  or  be  drownded  with  all  his  pas 
sengers  dragging  on  his  coattails  through  purgat'ry. 
And  he  listened,  and  prisintly  we  saw  the  Gladys  creep 
through  the  darkness  and  fog  up  till  us.  Whin  she 
crossed  our  stern  me  bould  Tad  tould  me  to  command 
her  to  folley  us  into  port. 

"  Ravin's  and  ragin's  were  nothin'  to  the  language  we 
traded  across  that  watther  for  the  five  minutes  necessary 
to  knock  loose  the  wits  of  that  heathen  mariner.  In  the 
end  he  saw  the  light,  and  the  passengers  that  crowded 
his  sloppy  decks  waved  their  arms  and  yelled  with  de 
light.  Me  bould  Tad  went  into  the  little  pilot-house 
and  slammed  the  door.  He  spoke  to  me  sharply. 
'  'T  will  blow  a  gale  before  midnight.'  He  rang  the  bell 
for  full  speed  ahead. 

"  An  hour  later  I  was  signaled  to  stop  me  machines. 
I  dropped  the  clutch  and  sint  me  assistant  for 


56      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

news.  He  came  back  with  big  eyes.  '  The  leader 
says  the  other  launch  can't  make  it  across  the  bar/ 
he  reports. 

"  '  Well  ? '  I  says. 

"  '  We  're  goin'  to  take  off  her  passengers  and  cross 
in  oursilves,'  says  the  brat.  With  that  he  vanishes.  I 
folleyed  him. 

"  We  were  stopped  right  in  the  fog,  with  roily  waves 
towerin'  past  us  and  the  dull  noise  of  the  bar  ahead  of 
us.  The  Gladys  was  right  astern  of  us  and  even  in  the 
darkness  I  cud  catch  a  glimpse  of  white  faces  and  hear 
little  screams  of  women.  I  went  to  leeward  and  there 
found  me  bould  Tad  launchin'  the  little  dingey  that  was 
stowed  on  the  roof  of  the  cabin.  Whin  it  was  overside 
four  of  me  bould  gang  drops  into  it  and  pulls  away  for 
the  other  launch.  (  They  '11  be  swamped  and  drownded,' 
I  remar-rks. 

"  '  They  will  not,'  says  Tad.  '  I  trained  thim  mesilf. 
'T  is  child's  play.' 

"  '  Childher  play  with  queer  toys  in  this  counthry,' 
I  continues  to  mesilf;  and  I  had  a  pain  in  me  pit  to 
see  thim  careerin'  on  the  big  waves  that  looked  nigh  to 
breakin'  any  minute.  But  they  came  back  with  three 
women  and  a  baby,  with  nothin'  to  say  excipt :  '  There  's 
thirty-one  of  thim,  leader !  ' 

"  '  Leave  the  min,'  says  he,  real  sharp.  '  Tell  the 
captain  we  '11  come  back  for  thim  after  we  've  landed 
the  women  safe.' 

"  I  tucked  the  women  down  in  the  afther  cabin,  snug 
and  warm,  and  wint  back  on  deck.  The  boat  was  away 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  57 

again,  swingin'  over  the  seas  as  easy  as  a  bird.  l  That 's 
good  boatmanship,'  I  remar-rks. 

"  '  It 's  young  Carson  in  command,'  says  me  bould 
bhoy  leader. 

"  'T  was  fifteen  minutes  before  the  boat  came  back 
and  thin  there  was  a  man  in  it,  with  two  women.  Whin 
it  swung  alongside  Tad  helped  out  the  ladies  and  thin 
pushed  at  the  man  with  his  foot.  '  Back  ye  go !  '  he 
says.  l  No  room  on  this  craft  for  min.' 

"  '  But  you  're  only  a  lot  of  bhoys !  '  says  the  man  in 
a  rage.  '  Who  are  you  to  give  orders  ?  I  '11  come 
aboard.' 

"  '  Ye  will  not,'  says  me  bould  Tad,  and  I  reached 
into  the  engine  room  for  a  spanner  whereby  to  back  him 
up,  for  I  admired  the  spunk  of  the  young  sprig.  But 
the  man  stared  into  the  lad's  face  and  said  nothin'.  And 
the  boat  pulled  away  with  him  still  starin'  over  his 
shouldher. 

"  The  nixt  boatload  was  all  the  rest  of  the  women 
folks  and  childher  and  Tad  ordered  the  dingey  swung 
in  and  secured.  Thin  he  tur-rned  to  me.  '  We  will 
go  in.' 

"  '  Which  way  ? '  I  demands. 

"  He  put  his  little  hand  to  his  ear.  l  Hear  it  ? '  he 
asks  calmly.  I  listened  and  by  the  great  Hivins  there 
was  a  whistlin'  buoy  off  in  the  darkness.  I  wint  down 
to  me  machines. 

"  I  've  run  me  engines  many  a  long  night  whin  the 
divil  was  bruising  his  knuckles  agin  the  plates  beneath 
me.  But  the  nixt  hour  made  me  tin  years  ouldher.  For 


58      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

we  had  n't  more  'n  got  well  started  in  before  it  was 
'  Stop  her ! '  and  *  Full  speed  ahead ! '  and  '  Ease  her ! ' 
Me  assistant  was  excited,  but  kept  on  spillin'  oil  into 
the  cups  and  feelin'  the  bearin's  like  an  ould  hand. 
Once,  whin  a  sea  walloped  over  our  little  craft,  he 
grinned  across  at  me.  '  There  ain't  many  soft  places 
to-night!  '  says  he. 

"  i  Ye  're  a  child  of  the  Ould  Nick,'  says  I,  '  and  eat 
fire  out  of  an  asbestos  spoon.  Ye  wud  be  runnin'  hell 
within  an  hour  af ther  ye  left  yer  little  corpse ! ' 

"  *  'T  is  the  scout's  law  not  to  be  afraid,'  retor-rts  me 
young  demon.  But  me  attintion  was  distracted  be  a 
tremenjous  scamperin'  overhead.  ( For  the  love  of 
mercy,  what  is  that  ? '  I  yelled. 

"  '  'T  is  the  leader  puttin'  out  the  drag,'  says  me  crew. 
'  Whin  the  breakers  are  high  it 's  safer  to  ride  in  with 
a  drag  over  the  stern.  It  keeps  the  boat  from  broachin' 
to.'  And  to  the  dot  of  his  last  word  I  felt  the  sudden, 
strong  pull  of  something  on  the  launch's  tail.  Thin 
something  lifted  us  up  and  laid  us  down  with  a  slap, 
like  a  pan  of  dough  on  a  mouldin'  board.  Me  machines 
coughed  and  raced  and  thin  almost  stopped.  Whin 
they  were  goin'  again  I  saw  me  assistant  houldin'  to  a 
stanchion.  His  face  was  pasty  white  and  he  gulped. 
'  Are  ye  scared  at  last  ? '  I  demanded  of  him. 

"  1 1  am  seasick,'  he  chokes  back.  And  he  was,  be 
Hivins ! 

"  So  we  joggled  and  bobbled  about  and  I  wondhered 
how  many  times  we  had  crossed  the  bar  from  ind  to  ind, 
whin  suddenly  it  smoothed  down  and  I  saw  a  red  light 


4i  For  the  love  of  mercy,  what  is  that  ?  "   I  yelled. 

Page  58 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  59 

through  the  little  windey.  Me  assistant  saw  it  too. 
'  That 's  the  range  light  off  the  jetty/  says  he.  l  We  're 
inside.' 

"  I  shoved  open  the  door  to  the  deck  and  looked  out. 
The  fog  lay  about  us  thick  and  the  wind  was  risin'; 
I  cud  barely  make  out  the  lights  ahead.  I  stuck  me 
head  out  and  glanced  astern.  'Way  back  of  us,  like  a 
match  behind  a  curtain,  I  saw  a  little  light  bobbing  up 
and  down  in  the  fog.  I  took  me  crew  be  the  ear  and 
thrust  his  head  out  beside  mine.  '  What  is  that  ? '  I 
demanded. 

"  '  'T  is  the  other  launch,'  he  says.  i  I  guess  they  fol- 
leyed  us  in.' 

"  We  ran  up  to  the  wharf  and  the  gang  made  every 
thing  fast ;  and  then  me  bould  Tad  comes  to  me  with  a 
sheepish  face.  '  Wud  ye  mind  tellin'  the  ladies  and 
childher  that  they  can  go  ashore  and  get  to  the  hotel  ? ' 
he  says. 

"  So  it  was  me  that  wint  in  and  tould  the  ladies  they 
were  saved  and  helped  thim  to  the  wharf  and  saw  thim 
started  for  the  hotel.  Thin  I  came  back  to  the  launch, 
but  there  was  nobody  there.  Me  bould  gang  had  disap 
peared.  Just  thin  the  other  launch  came  up,  limpin'  on 
one  leg,  covered  with  drippin'  men  and  blasphemy. 
They  did  n't  wait  for  the  lines  to  be  put  out,  but  jumped 
for  the  float  like  rats  out  of  biscuit  barrels  and  swarmed 
for  the  hotel.  Whiles  I  was  watchin'  thim  the  skipper 
of  the  Gladys  pulls  himsilf  out  of  his  wrecked  pilot 
house  and  approaches  me  with  heavy  footfalls.  *  I  'm 
tould  that  't  was  bhoys  that  manned  this  launch,'  he 


60      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

remar-rks.  '  If  it  is  so  I  wud  n't  have  come  in  and 
nearly  lost  me  ship/ 

"  '  If  it  had  n't  been  for  the  bhoys  ye  'd  now  be 
driftin'  into  the  breakers  off  yer  favorite  fishin'  spot/ 
I  retor-rts.  '  I  've  seen  many  a  man  who  'd  found  the 
door  of  hell  locked  against  him  swear  because  he  had  n't 
the  key  in  his  pocket.  Nixt  time  ye  try  suicide  leave  the 
women  and  childher  ashore.'  And  with  the  words  out  of 
me  mouth  the  gale  broke  upon  us  like  the  blow  of  a  fist. 

"  We  took  shelter  behind  a  warehouse  and  the  skipper 
of  the  Gladys  said  in  me  ear :  '  I  suppose  the  owner  of 
the  launch  had  to  get  what  crew  he  cud.  Where  is  he  ? 
I  'd  like  to  thank  him.' 

" '  If  ye  will  come  with  me  to  the  hotel  ye  shall  see 
the  man  ye  owe  life  to,'  I  infor-rmed  him. 

"  As  we  intered  the  hotel  a  tall  man,  with  the 
mar-rk  of  aut'ority  on  him,  observed  me  unifor-rm  and 
addressed  me :  '  What  do  you  know  about  this  ? ' 

"  Aut'ority  is  always  aut'ority,  and  I  tould  him  what 
I  knew  and  had  seen,  not  forbearin'  to  mintion  the 
gang  and  their  wild  ambitions.  And  whin  I  had  fin 
ished  this  man  said :  1 1  shall  muster  thim  in  to 
morrow.  I  happen  to  be  in  command  of  the  scouts  in 
this  district.' 

"  '  But  they  have  n't  their  dollars  to  put  in  the  little 
bank/  I  remar-rked.  l  And  they  tell  me  without  their 
dollar  they  cannot  be  second-class  scouts,  whativer  that 
is.' 

"  At  this  a  fat  man  reached  for  a  hat  off  the  hook  and 
put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  drew  it  out  and  emptied  it 
into  the  hat,  and  passed  it. 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  61 

"  And  while  the  money  jingled  into  it  my  respict  for 
the  brave  lads  rose  into  me  mouth.  '  They  won't  take 
it,'  I  said.  '  They  have  refused  money  before.  'T  is 
their  oath.' 

"  The  man  with  aut'ority  looked  over  at  me.  '  The 
chief  is  right/  he  said.  '  They  have  earned  only  a  dol 
lar  apiece.  Whose  launch  was  that  they  took  ? ' 

"'Faith  and  I  don't  know/  I  said.  'They  re- 
mar-rked  that  the  owner  —  Hivin  bliss  him !  —  had 
niver  forbidden  thim  to  use  it.' 

"  '  Thin  we  must  pay  the  rint  of  it  for  the  night/ 
says  he.  *  But  the  bhoys  will  get  only  a  dollar  a  piece. 
Where  are  they  ? ' 

"  '  They  disappeared  whin  the  boat  was  fast,  sir/  says 
I.  '  I  think  they  wint  home.  'T  is  bedtime.' 

"  t  D'  ye  know  where  the  pathrol-leader  lives  ? '  he 
demands. 

"  So  we  walked  up  the  hill  in  the  darkness  and  wind 
till  we  reached  the  house  of  me  bould  Tad.  A  knock  at 
the  door  brought  the  missus,  with  a  towel  on  her  ar-rm. 
I  pushed  in.  '  We  Ve  come  to  see  yer  son/  says  I. 

"  We  stepped  in  and  saw  the  young  sprig  be  the  fire, 
on  a  chair,  with  his  feet  in  a  bowl  of  watther  and  mus- 
thard.  He  was  for  runnin'  whin  he  saw  us,  but  cud  n't 
for  the  lack  of  clothes.  So  he  scowled  at  us.  '  This  is 
the  commander  of  the  scouts/  I  says,  inthroducin'  me 
tall  companion.  '  And  here  's  yer  five  dollars  to  put 
with  yer  dollar  and  six  bits  into  the  little  bank,  so  's  yez 
can  all  of  yez  be  second-class  scouts.' 

"  '  We  can't  take  the  money/  says  he,  with  a  terrible 


62      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

growl.  '  The  oath  forbids  us  to  take  money  for  savin' 
life.' 

"  '  Don't  be  a  hero/  I  rebukes  him.  '  Ye  're  only  a 
small  bhoy  in  his  undherclothes  with  yer  feet  in  hot 
watther  and  musthard.  No  hero  was  iver  in  such  a  pre 
dicament.  This  gintleman  will  infor-rm  ye  about  the 
money.' 

"  Me  bould  companion  looked  at  the  slip  of  a  lad  and 
said  sharply :  '  Report  to  me  to-morrow  morning  with 
yer  pathrol  at  sivin  o'clock  to  be  musthered  in.' 

"  With  that  we  mar-rched  out  into  the  stor-rm  and 
back  to  the  hotel,  where  I  wint  to  slape  like  a  bhoy  me- 
silf  —  me  that  was  sixty-four  me  last  birthday  and  niver 
thought  to  make  a  fool  of  mesilf  with  a  gang  of  bhoys 
and  a  gasoline  engine  —  and  that  on  a  holiday !  " 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  63 

III 

A  PERILOUS  PHILANTHROPY 

CHIEF  Engineer  Michael  O'Rourke  was  come  back  to 
us  on  Columbia  River  Light- Vessel  No.  188  from  six 
weeks'  leave  of  absence.  He  scrambled  up  the  side  lad 
der,  waved  his  hand  to  the  mate  of  the  tender  and  dived 
below  to  his  room,  holding  in  the  crook  of  his  arm  a 
very  shiny  new  derby  hat.  Eive  minutes  later  he 
emerged  from  the  cabin  clad  in  an  old  uniform.  He 
then  consented  to  talk. 

"  I  spint  my  lave  of  absince  as  a  passenger  on  a  big 
liner,"  he  informed  us.  "  For  six  weeks  I  've  wor-rn 
the  clothes  of  the  rich  and  uncomfortable  and  aten 
the  food  of  the  supercilious  and  unemployed.  I  've 
scor-rned  me  infariors  who  wor-rked  for  a  livin'  and 
sworn  with  iligance  at  the  flunkey  that  set  tin  cints' 
worth  of  fruit  on  me  bed  and  char-rged  me  a  dollar  for 
the  court' sy.  Once  more  I  'm  an  infarior  mesilf,  lookin' 
forward  to  Uncle  Sam's  payday;  and  if  you,  Misther 
Lof,  will  bring  me  the  little  book  of  stores  and  the  in- 
gine-room  log  I  will  put  you  back  in  your  place  and 
assume  again  the  duties  of  chief  ingineer  of  this  packet." 
Having  gone  through  this  formality,  Mickey  relaxed 
and  remarked  that  travel  opened  the  mind.  As  he  spoke 
to  seafarers,  we  took  his  statement  as  philosophical  and 
not  personal.  He  corrected  the  adjective:  "  'T  is  not 
philosophical  I  mean.  Philosophy  is  for  ould  people 
who  are  too  poor  to  be  philanthropic.  I  've  moved  in 


64      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

high  society  and  I  scor-rn  philosophy.  Me  stronghould 
is  philanthropy,  the  amusemint  of  the  nobility  of  free 
Ameriky. 

"  No ;  ye  may  some  of  yez  be  philosophers,  havin'  to 
wor-rk  for  your  wages  and  wid  no  money  to  spind  in 
iligant  ways;  but  philanthropy  is  two  steps  above  ye. 
I  'm  now  a  philanthropist  and  me  mind  is  opened.  'T  is 
poor  wor-rk  instructin'  thim  that  are  busy  earnin'  their 
pay,  but  I  see  that  ye  are  an  ignorant  lot  and  deserve 
nOthin'  betther  than  to  be  taught  be  your  supariors. 

"  None  of  yez  remimber  Tommy  Stubbs,  'prentice 
boy  on  the  ould  City  of  Brussels  —  God  rest  her  bones ! 
—  but  all  of  yez  know  from  the  papers  of  Thomas 
Stubbs,  the  millioner  of  New  York.  Ye  know  him  for 
his  philanthropy,  which  means  that  he  has  so  much 
money  that  he  cannot  spind  it  honestly  and  therefore 
hires  honest  min  to  spind  it  for  him.  He  was  a  pas 
senger  on  the  Emperor,  on  which  I  wint  to  China  but 
just  now.  And  I  will  tell  you  the  story  of  Thomas,  once 
Tommy,  and  elucidate  to  yer  dull  minds  the  perils  that 
philanthropists  suffer,  which  are  greater  than  any  perils 
on  the  deep  watthers. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  found  mesilf  in  San  Francisco 
with  three  paychecks  in  me  hat  and  still  money  in  me 
pocket.  Says  I  to  mesilf,  '  Me  bould  boy,  ye  are  rich. 
How  will  ye  spind  your  fortune  ? '  And  mesilf  answers, 
with  wan  eye  cocked  at  a  big  placard,  '  Ye  will  go  as  a 
passenger  on  a  big  liner  for  the  first  time  in  yer  life 
and  speak  to  no  man  widout  the  coin  ready  in  his  pocket 
to  show  his  supariority  to  thim  that  wor-rk/ 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  65 

"  So  I  wint  in  and  bought  me  a  cabin  passage  to  Yoko 
hama  and  return,  with  stopover  privileges  at  Honolulu 
and  a  fine  opportunity  to  visit  Manila  if  yer  money  hild 
out.  And  the  next  day  I  wint  aboard  and  a  flunkey  took 
me  little  grip  and  led  me  down  across  the  carpets  to  a 
little  room  wid  two  other  min  sittin'  on  the  edge  of  the 
bunks  like  gulls  on  a  plank.  I  greeted  thim  haughtily 
and  demanded  to  know  the  usual  quistions  asked  be  the 
first-class  passengers.  Havin'  thus  impressed  the  flunkey 
and  me  two  fellow  passengers  wid  me  ignorance  and 
pride,  I  wint  on  deck  and  surveyed  the  poor  sailors  as 
they  got  the  ship  out  of  her  berth.  And  whin  I  hear-rd 
the  ingine-room  gongs  ring  I  smiled  and  sat  down  in  a 
chair  like  a  gintleman. 

"  Before  we  were  outside  the  Heads  they  served  us 
with  luncheon  and  I  found  me  place  at  a  little  table 
tucked  away  in  one  corner  of  the  saloon.  I  ordered  the 
things  I  couldn't  make  out  the  names  of  and  thin  ate 
what  I  could  of  thim,  which  was  little.  Whin  I  had 
done  me  duty  I  looked  around,  and  right  across  from 
me,  at  the  captain's  table,  I  saw  Tommy  Stubbs,  who 
was  a  'prentice  on  the  ould  City  of  Brussels  whin  I  was 
in  the  black-pan  watch.  He  sat  there  with  his  fine 
clothes  and  his  gold  watch,  atin'  slowly  and  wid  the  air 
of  a  man  who  had  aten  too  much  the  week  before.  Be 
side  him  sat  a  lady  in  a  green  gown  wid  red  hair  and 
a  look  of  sorrow  on  her  face. 

"  After  the  meal  I  wint  on  deck  and  to  the  smokin' 
room,  where  I  lit  me  pipe  and  stared  proudly  forth  out 
of  me  plush  seat.  And  me  eyes  rested  on  the  eyes  of 


66      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Tommy  Stubbs.  I  grinned  at  him  and  he  grinned  back. 
'  'T  is  Mickey  O'Eourke ! '  says  he,  suckin'  his  cigar. 

"  '  It  is,'  I  responds.  '  And  whin  did  Tommy  Stubbs 
quit  an  honest  livin'  and  become  a  passenger  ? ' 

"  He  moved  across  be  me  side,  spite  of  the  looks  of 
several  of  the  American  nobility.  And  the  story  came 
out  of  him  like  salt  from  the  condinser. 

"  Tommy  Stubbs  had  quit  bein'  Tommy  whin  his 
father,  who  was  one  of  the  owners  of  the  ould  City  Line, 
had  died  and  gone  to  glory.  So  much  money  had  been 
left  him  be  the  executors  that  he  didn't  need  to  know 
anny  more  and  so  left  the  sea.  Thin  he  was  educated, 
which  is  learnin'  to  do  nothin'  widout  excitin'  the  con- 
timpt  of  your  infariors.  And  after  he  was  educated, 
me  bould  Tommy  tould  me,  he  tried  to  do  good  with  his 
money.  '  Ye  see,'  said  the  brave  felley,  '  I  had  almost 
been  a  wor-rking  man  mesilf  and  me  hear-rt  wint  out 
to  thim  that  toil.  Bein'  young,  me  hear-rt  wint  out  spe 
cially  to  the  women  and  gur-rls,  so  that  I  took  little 
pleasure  out  of  me  club,  me  horses  and  me  vally.  'T  is 
awful  to  think  of  thim  that  must  wor-rk  for  their  bread 
and  butter,'  says  he. 

"  '  'T  is  cruel  har-rd,'  says  I.  '  And  what  did  yez 
do?' 

"  '  I  studied  philanthropy,'  says  he.  1 1  'm  known 
now  as  a  philanthropist  from  Liverpool  and  the  tame 
parts  of  Scotland  to  the  wildest  parts  of  Ameriky.' 

"  '  And  what  is  a  philanthropist  ? '  says  I.  '  We  had 
none  in  Ireland.'  - 

"  He  ixplained  that  it  was  a  man  wid  money  who  de- 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  67 

spised  other  people  wid  money  and  tried  to  live  decent, 
like  the  poor.  '  Ye  may  have  read  in  the  paper/  said  he, 
'  that  I  married  a  workin'  gur-rl.' 

"  '  Is  she  the  redhaired  gur-rl  that  sat  beside  ye  at  the 
table  wid  the  sorrowful  look  on  her  sweet  face  ? '  I 
demanded. 

"  '  It  is,'  says  he.  '  The  sorrow  is  for  the  gur-rls  that 
still  have  to  wor-rk  widout  the  advantages  of  wealth.' 

"  Thin  he  gave  me  a  cigar  which  I  smoked  in  silence 
like  anny  gintleman;  and  whin  it  was  finished  I  wint 
to  me  room  and  found  me  two  companions  sittin'  in 
their  bunks  houldin'  their  heads  wid  wake  hands.  So 
I  rang  the  bell  for  the  flunkey  and  expostulated  wid  him 
for  the  discomfort  of  havin'  to  sleep  wid  min  widout 
stomachs  and  finally  tur-rned  in  on  the  main  deck  wid 
Pat  Biordan,  chief  fireman  in  the  ould  days  whin  I  was 
runnin'  in  the  Pacific  Coast  Company. 

"  In  the  mor-rnin'  the  first  man  I  met  was  Tommy 
Stubbs.  He  greeted  me  heartily  and  we  walked  up  and 
down  the  deck  unmindful  of  the  boys  who  were  tryin' 
to  clane  it  against  the  sharp  eye  of  the  mate.  I  inquired 
after  his  lady.  He  sighed.  '  She  is  unhappy,  Mickey,' 
said  he.  l  It  seems  as  if  she  niver  could  forget  the  ould 
days  and  the  poor  gur-rls  who  wor-rked  for  their  livinV 

"  And  in  the  early  mor-rnin'  air,  wid  none  about,  he 
opened  his  heart  as  did  young  Tommy  years  before, 
whin  a  'prentice  lad  looked  up  to  a  stoker  and  made 
f rinds  wid  him  for  the  sake  of  a  warm  place  and  a  yarn. 
I  tell  yez  the  truth,  as  Tommy  tould  it  to  me  that  mor-rn. 

"  Whin  he  had  come  into  his  money  —  and  it  was 


68      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

thousands  of  pounds  —  he  had  been  educated  till  he  sor 
rowed  for  thim  that  had  less.  And  in  his  sorrowin'  he 
met  Lelia  Toomey,  an  Irish  gur-rl  who  was  livin'  down 
in  New  York  on  the  six  dollars  a  week  she  made  be 
sellin'  goods  in  a  big  shop.  And  it  struck  me  bould 
Tommy  that,  if  he  was  to  be  a  philanthropist  and  do  the 
right  thing,  he  ought  to  marry  Lelia.  Which  he  did. 

"  '  I  married  her  because  I  found  mesilf  cheated  and 
foxed  at  ivery  tur-rn,'  he  tould  me.  '  'T  was  me  part  to 
do  good  among  the  wor-rkin'  classes  and  so  I  married 
Lelia.  She  has  been  a  wonderful  help  to  me  in  me  phi 
lanthropy,  knowin'  the  ways  of  the  gur-rls  and  their 
terrible  sufferin's.  Widout  her  I  would  a'  been  a  poor 
benyf actor  to  the  race  through  ignorance.' 

"  '  Philanthropy  is  a  new  name  for  love,'  says  I. 

"  '  No,  Mickey,'  says  he.  '  I  did  n't  marry  for  love. 
'T  was  merely  a  part  of  me  philanthropy.  A  man  of 
my  high  position  cannot  afford  to  consider  himself.  Ye 
see  she  could  help  me  to  give  me  money  away  widout 
scandal,  knowin'  as  she  did  the  ins  and  outs  of  bein' 
poor.  Ye  have  no  notion  how  wicked  the  poor  are  whin 
they  think  they  can  do  ye  out  of  yer  fortune.' 

"  And  the  felley  sighed  and  looked  away. 

"  After  breakfast  Tommy  hunted  me  out  and  said : 
'  Ye  know  no  newspaper  men,  Mickey  ? ' 

"  '  Divil  a  wan,'  said  I. 

"  '  Thin  I  will  talk  to  yez,'  says  he.  '  For  six  years 
I  've  been  silent  and  speechless  because  the  papers  put 
it  all  into  print.' 

"  '  I  saw  ye  talkin'  this  minute  to  that  fine  lady  wid 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  69 

the  diamonds  on  her  fingers,'  said  me  bould  Mickey. 
t  And  ye  were  talkin'  free  and  easy  as  any  gossoon  of  a 
dewey  mor-rnin  whira  skirts  are  lifted  high.' 

"  '  That  is  a  lady  of  me  own  class,'  says  he.  '  She  is 
rich  and  says  nothin'  of  what  she  thinks.' 

"  (  And  I  'm  poor  and  cannot  speak  me  mind,'  I  re 
turns  briskly.  '  So,  talk  away ! ' 

"  But  our  talk  amounted  to  little,  being  mostly  mesilf 
remimberin'  the  ould  days  on  the  City  of  Brussels  and 
how  we  used  to  enrage  the  skipper.  And  suddintly 
Tommy  quits  me  and  goes  to  speak  wid  the  rich  lady 
wid  diamonds. 

"  I  strolled  off,  free  and  easy,  and  in  my  walkin' 
passed  Mrs.  Tommy,  wid  her  red  hair  and  her  green 
dress  and  her  look  of  sorrow.  I  made  bould  to  stop  and 
address  her.  f  I  'm  Mickey  O'Rourke,  a  shipmate  of  yer 
husband's,'  says  I.  '  I  knew  him  whin  he  was  poor  and 
no  philanthropist.' 

"  She  smiled  at  me  sweetly  and  I  sat  down.  '  He 
tould  me  yez  were  Irish,'  I  remarked. 

"  *  I  still  smell  me  fatheu's  pipe,'  says  she. 

" ( I  observe  that  yer  husband  smokes  cigars,'  I 
retorts. 

"  '  He  is  very  generous/  says  she.    '  And  he  is  rich.' 

"  And  wid  these  wor-rds  we  fell  into  sociability  and 
talked.  She  seemed  to  enjoy  me  bould  Mickey's  stories 
of  her  husband's  young  days  and  at  the  ind  of  it  all  she 
said :  '  I  wish  ye  could  make  Tommy  remimber  the 
times  he  had  whin  he  was  a  boy.' 

"  '  God  forbid !  '  says  I.     '  He  was  thin  poor  and  in- 


70      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

dustrious.  Now  he  is  rich  and  a  philanthropist.  Wid 
a  fine  wife  like  yersilf  and  all  his  money,  why  should 
he  remimber  the  days  whin  he  wor-rked  ? ' 

"  '  Mickey,'  says  she,  '  a  philanthropist  is  no  husband 
at  all,  at  all.' 

"  She  was  a  lady  and  said  no  more.  I  wint  down  to 
me  room  and  thrust  out  me  two  companions  and  hild  me 
head  in  me  hands  to  think. 

"  'T  was  a  poor  broth  to  be  made  out  of  such  fine 
game.  Here  was  Tommy,  wid  his  money  and  his  phi 
lanthropy.  There  was  a  fine  gur-rl  wid  her  sorrow  and 
her  sweet  ways.  And  they  were  farther  apart  than  the 
divil  and  Saint  Peter.  Tommy,  wid  the  ignorance  of 
wealth,  had  married  a  gur-rl  in  order  that  he  might 
give  his  money  to  other  gur-rls  widout  being  cheated. 
Lelia  Toomey  had  married  a  philanthropist,  not  a 
heavy-fisted  man  wid  a  war-rm  wor-rd  and  love  in  his 
heart.  I  hild  me  head  so  long  that  me  neck  had  to  be 
reminded  be  me  stomach  that  it  was  meal  time. 

"  Siveral  times  did  Tommy  Stubbs  have  speech  wid 
me.  But  he  had  speech  more  often  wid  the  lady  wid 
the  diamonds.  And  Lelia  Toomey  sat  in  her  chair  and 
looked  out  on  the  sea.  To  comfort  her  I  sat  in  a  chair 
and  smoked  me  pipe  widout  noticin'  the  growls  and 
scor-rn  of  the  deck  boys. 

"  One  day  she  spoke  to  me  softly :  '  Mickey,  did  me 
husband  tell  yez  why  he  married  me  ? ' 

"  I  did  not  look  at  her  for  shame.  In  the  silence  she 
put  her  little  hand  on  me  rough  paw.  '  Mickey,'  says 
she  again,  '  did  yez  marry  the  gur-rl  yez  loved  ? ' 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  71 

"  And  we  sat  there  together  wid  nothing  to  say.  But 
prisintly  I  spoke  up :  '  Have  ye  had  childher  ? ' 

"  '  No  childher/  says  she. 

"  l  Nor  I,'  says  me  bould  Mickey  to  comfort  her. 
'  No  father  have  I  been  excipt  a  godfather,  and  the 
priest  swore  I  disgraced  mesilf  at  the  time.' 

"  '  Thin  we  are  even/  says  she. 

"  '  We  are  not  even/  says  I.  ( I  have  nayther  chick 
nor  child.  Ye  have  a  husband  that  is  rich  and  notorious 
and  a  philanthropist.' 

"  '  We  will  say  no  more  about  it,  Mickey/  says  she 
softly.  '  A  bed  is  a  bed  though  the  covers  be  thin.  I  've 
made  me  bed.' 

"  '  And  no  sleep  do  yez  get/  says  I.    l  But  I  am  silent.' 

"  Which  was  a  lie.  For  I  wint  and  dragged  Tommy 
away  from  the  fine  lady  wid  diamonds  and  pushed  him 
up  in  a  corner  and  said :  '  Misther  Stubbs,  't  is  none  of 
poor  Mickey's  business ;  but  I  stole  a  spoon  whin  I  was 
a  babe  in  ar-rms  and  have  stuck  it  into  ivery  man's  bowl 
since.  Will  yez  tell  me  why  ye  married  that  fine  Irish 
lass?' 

"  He  tried  to  scor-rn  me,  but  I  would  not  be  scor-rned. 
And  thin  he  said :  '  I  have  done  a  great  service  to  the 
wor-rkin'  gur-rls  of  the  wor-rld.  I  have  ilevated  thim. 
I  have  done  iverythin'  that  me  wife  advised.  But  I 
have  me  own  class,  which  I  long  for  at  times.  A  man 
cannot  live  widout  the  society  of  his  equals.' 

"  I  saw  that  he  considered  Lelia  Toomey  no  equal  of 
his,  being  merely  the  wife  of  a  philanthropist.  So  I 
shook  him  off  and  wint  down  to  me  room  to  think.  Me 


72      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

thoughts  left  the  Emperor  and  returned  to  a  place  yez 
know  nothing  of  and  a  gur-rl  yez  will  niver  hear  the 
name  of.  At  the  ind  of  me  meditation  I  wint  back  to 
Lelia  and  said :  '  Do  yez  love  yer  husband  ? ' 

"  l  'T  is  mighty  impudent  ye  are,  Mickey  O'Rourke ! ' 
says  she,  wid  a  blush  on  her  cheek.  f  But  if  it  be  con 
cern  of  yours,  I  do.' 

"  '  Thin  I  will  explain  to  yez  how  to  put  Mrs.  Dia 
monds  in  her  place,'  says  I.  '  I  have  lied  to  ye,  but  now 
I  will  tell  the  truth.  Tommy  tould  me  he  married  yez 
to  help  the  wor-rkin'  gur-rls.  But  I  think  he  married 
ye  because  he  loved  ye.  Philanthropy  may  do  for  so 
ciety,  but  I  knew  him  whin  he  had  no  money  and  the 
heart  of  him  is  good.  The  trouble  wid  me  bould  Tommy 
is  that  he  does  not  know  he  has  been  in  love,  being 
blinded  by  his  riches.' 

11  The  woman  drew  hersilf  up  proudly.  '  Mickey, 
I  've  given  yez  the  privileges  of  a  frind,'  says  she. 
'  Now  ye  go  too  far,  interf erin'  between  me  and  me 
husband ! ' 

"  '  I  have  seen  manny  a  man  made  a  fool  of  by  a 
woman,'  I  retorted  bouldly.  '  But  niver  before  have  I 
seen  a  good  woman  made  a  fool  of  be  money.  And  't  is 
you,  Lelia  Toomey,  that  are  cheated  out  of  your  rights 
be  the  force  of  gold.  Ye  could  have  had  your  husband 
yoursilf  and  instid  ye  allowed  his  money  to  snatch  him 
away  from  ye.  Therefore  I  tell  ye  that  ye  are  a  fool, 
in  spite  of  yer  pretty  face  and  yer  philanthropy.  What 
is  philanthropy  to  childher  ? '  And  I  scor-rned  her. 

"  That  night  at  dinner  I  heard  Stubbs  talking  very 


73 

proudly  to  some  other  man  at  the  table.  1 1  am  very 
much  interested  in  that  form  of  philanthropy/  said  he. 
'  I  have  made  a  special  study  of  the  troubles  of  the 
wor-rkin'-gur-rl  class.  Me  wife  was  a  wor-rkin'  gur-rl. 
I  have  learned  much  from  her.' 

"  I  stared  over  and  saw  the  eyes  of  people  fixed  on 
Lelia  Toomey.  Mrs.  Diamonds  looked  at  her  specially 
tender  and  said  in  a  sweet  voice :  (  How  glad  you  must 
be,  Mrs.  Stubbs,  to  have  the  opportunity  of  ilevatin'  the 
poor  gur-rls  such  as  you  were ! ' 

"  And  Lelia  blushed  and  looked  down,  instead  of 
givin'  the  woman  an  Irish  answer.  I  was  ashamed  for 
her. 

"  Whin  we  arrived  in  Honolulu  we  first-class  pas 
sengers  all  disembarked  to  take  expinsive  trips  over  the 
city  and  Tommy  Stubbs  left  his  wife  to  mail  letthers 
about  philanthropy  and  took  Mrs.  Diamonds  to  some 
beach.  'T  was  a  scandal  on  the  spot,  for  who  had  not 
hear-rd  Mrs.  Diamonds'  open  scor-rn  of  Mrs.  Stubbs? 
And  who  had  not  hear-rd  Stubbs  himsilf  refer  to  her 
always  as  a  wor-rkin'  gur-rl  whom  he  had  married  in 
order  to  ilevate  the  poor  and  needy  ?  So  I  wint  nowhere 
and  informed  me  companions  that  I  knew  all  about 
Honolulu  and  despised  it.  So  they  departed  to  wonder 
at  the  beauties  of  Nature  and  spind  their  money.  Whin 
all  were  gone  and  the  coalies  were  at  wor-rk  dumpin' 
fuel  into  the  Emperor  I  sneaked  along  the  upper  deck 
till  I  came  in  front  of  Lelia  Toomey.  She  looked  up 
at  me  out  of  her  wet  eyes  and  said :  '  Mickey,  are  ye  a 
gintleman  ? ' 


"  1 1  'd  do  much  for  yez,'  I  replied.  i  But  kape  widhin 
me  limits.' 

"  '  Go  away  and  forget  that  I  am  weeping,'  says  she. 

"  Whin  the  Irish  weep  the  English  get  ready  for  more 
trouble;  and  with  me  eyes  over  the  sea  I  stirred  that 
young  woman  to  more  tears,  knowin'  that  whin  they 
dried  'twould  be  in  the  fire  that  is  Ireland's  sunburst 
Prisintly  she  looked  up  at  me.  '  Mickey,'  says  she,  '  am 
I  not  as  pretty  as  Mrs.  Diamonds  ? ' 

"  '  I  rayfuse  to  tell,'  I  returns. 

"  ( Is  she  more  a  woman  worth  while  than  me  ? '  she 
persists. 

"  '  I  have  nothin'  to  say,'  says  me  bould  Mickey. 

"  '  And  why  does  Tommy  like  her  betther  and  lave  me 
to  the  empty  glory  of  bein'  a  poor  wor-rkin'  gur-rl  who 
married  riches  ? '  she  goes  on. 

"  (  Was  it  the  gold  that  ye  loved  whin  ye  married 
Tommy  Stubbs  ? '  I  inquires. 

"  '  Mickey,'  says  she,  '  ye  will  niver  die  unhappy  for 
not  havin'  asked  too  much.  But  a  quistion  is  a  quistion, 
though  out  of  the  mouth  of  a  poor  man.  Whin  I  prom 
ised  to  be  Mrs.  Stubbs  I  knew  little  excipt  that  Tommy 
was  big  and  strong  and  had  a  way  wid  him.  What  cared 
I  whether  he  was  a  philanthropist?  His  ar-rms  were 
big  and  his  eyes  bright  whin  he  saw  me.  Mickey! 
Mickey !  Why  did  I  lose  him  ? '  And  she  stared  out  on 
the  wharves  wid  dry  eyes. 

"  So  I  sat  and  thought  of  one  whose  name  ye  will 
niver  hear  and  I  smelt  the  smoke  of  the  mor-rnin'  fire 
in  a  place  ye  are  none  of  yez  worthy  to  see ;  and  me  toes 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  75 

crept  in  me  boots  for  lack  of  the  turf  under  me  feet. 
And  whin  I  had  thought  I  spoke. 

"  '  Lelia  Toomey,'  says  I,  '  jer  husband  spint  much 
money  to  get  ye;  but,  like  Ireland,  ye  wint  too  cheap 
and  thereby  made  yersilf  unremimbered  whin  the  bar 
gain  was  past.  'T  is  betther  for  a  woman  to  hold  hersilf 
too  dear  than  to  yield  too  quickly.  Make  Tommy  spind 
his  wealth  to  keep  yez.' 

"  '  And  ye  mean  ? '  she  asks  softly. 

"  '  Let  us  quit  this  plush  packet  and  stop  ashore  a 
while,'  I  returns  bouldly.  *  Are  ye  afraid  he  will  not 
come  back  after  ye  ? ' 

"  '  Ye  mean  ? '  she  repeats. 

"  '  I  mean  this,'  says  I :  *  We  will  leave  this  ship  im 
mediate  and  leave  no  word.  And  whin  Tommy  comes 
back  with  Mrs.  Diamonds  and  does  not  find  ye  he  will 
think  ye  have  gone  ashore  to  shop.  And  he  will  say 
nothin'.  But  whin  the  ship  sails,  and  he  finds  ye  not 
aboard,  what  will  he  do  ? ' 

"  l  God  knows,  Mickey,'  says  she.     '  I  am  afraid !  ' 

"  '  Are  ye  afraid  of  Mrs.  Diamonds  ? '  I  says. 

"  And  the  gur-rl's  blood  turned  to  roses  in  her  cheeks 
and  her  eyes  sparkled.  '  I  am  not,'  says  she.  '  But, 
Mickey,  the  ship  will  carry  him  to  China  and  he  will 
forget  me.' 

"  '  Has  he  remimbered  yez  ? '  I  demanded. 

"  '  He  is  always  kind,'  she  replies,  the  look  of  sorrow 
comin'  into  her  sweet  face. 

"  '  The  rich  can  afford  to  be  kind,'  says  me  bould 
Mickey.  '  A  loving  blow  is  betther  than  easy  wor-rds.' 


"  '  Would  yez  have  struck  her  ? '  she  asks  quickly. 

"  '  'T  would  have  been  a  great  risk/  I  says,  '  for  she 
was  high-spirited.' 

"  '  I  will  go  wid  ye/  she  says.  '  But  if  he  does  not 
come  back  for  me  I  shall  niver  forgive  ye  —  and  may 
God  save  ye,  Mickey  O'Rourke ! ' 

"  So  I  wint  down  and  caught  a  hackdriver  be  wakin' 
him  up  out  of  a  sound  sleep  and  the  two  of  us  sneaked 
down  from  the  ship;  and  we  drove  to  a  hotel  where 
Lelia  got  a  room  and  said :  '  Mickey,  sit  on  the  steps 
and  do  not  let  me  go  back,  for  I  am  weak.  Whin  does 
the  Emperor  sail  ? ' 

"  l  She  sails  at  six  o'clock/  I  tould  her.  '  Till  thin 
I  sit  here ;  and  if  ye  value  yer  life  ye  will  not  timpt  me 
to  strike  yez  be  tryin'  to  escape  to  a  man  that  cares 
nothing  for  yez.' 

"  And  I  sat  on  the  steps  and  smoked  me  pipe  till  dark. 
Whin  the  Emperor  was  gone  I  wint  inside  and  sint 
wor-rd  to  her  room.  The  flunkey  came  back  super 
ciliously  and  waved  at  me.  '  The  lady  says  she  niver 
wants  to  see  yez  again/  says  he. 

"  Thus  I  knew  that  I  had  put  a  short  spoon  out  to  a 
pot  beyond  my  reach  across  a  hot  fire ;  and  I  wint  and 
got  me  a  place  to  sleep,  and  sat  up  the  night  wonderin'  at 
the  ways  of  philanthropists. 

"  'T  was  three  days  later  that  I  saw  Lelia  Toomey 
again.  She  sint  for  me  and  whin  I  saw  her  I  was  for 
tur-rning  away,  but  she  called  to  me  softly.  I  stood 
before  her  like  a  boy  wid  broken  eggs  in  his  little  shirt- 
bosom  and  the  fear  of  the  switch  across  his  shoulders. 


'Twas  Tommy  Stubbs,  dirty,  forlorn,  and  desp'rit. 

Page  77 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  77 

1  Mickey/  says  she,  '  will  he  think  I  'm  worth  the 
price  ? ' 

"  <  If  he  does  not '  I  began. 

"  '  If  he  does  not/  says  she,  '  nayther  you  nor  he 
will  iver  know  the  truth.  And  may  Hiven  save  yez, 
Mickey ! ' 

"  Six  days  passed  and  once  more  I  stood  in  front 
of  her.  '  Mrs.  Diamonds  is  more  lovely  and  is  his 
equal/  says  she.  '  I  was  a  fool  and  I  hate  yez,  Mickey 
O'Rourke ! '  And  wid  that  she  turned  her  face  full  of 
sorrow  away  from  me. 

"  I  wint  out  and  walked  along  the  beach.  I  walked 
into  the  night  and  the  moon  rose;  and  I  remimbered 
that  I  was  an  ould  felley,  long  past  love  and  soft  looks. 
Wirra !  '  Ye  are  fit  for  nothing  but  handling  the  ma 
chinery  of  an  ould  tub  of  a  light-ship/  I  thought.  '  And 
ye  have  meddled  with  the  wor-rks  of  a  woman's  hear-rt.' 

"  But  me  thoughts  stood  still,  for  a  man  wid  salt  on 
his  beard  and  trouble  in  his  eyes  stuck  a  heavy  fist 
under  me  mousers  and  said :  t  Mickey  O'Rourke,  where 
is  me  wife  ? ' 

"  'T  was  Tommy  Stubbs,  dirty,  forlorn  and  desp'rit. 
I  swelled  wid  joy,  but  concealed  it.  (  She  loves  ye  no 
more/  said  I.  '  Therefore  I  advise  yez  to  lave  her  be. 
She  despises  ye.' 

"  '  Where  is  Lelia  ? '  he  persists,  taking  hould  of  me 
coat. 

"  '  She  is  at  the  hotel/  I  responds.  '  She  is  waiting  for 
a  steamer  to  take  her  back  to  Ameriky.' 

"  '  What  hotel  ? '  says  he. 


78      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  What  is  the  need  of  stirrin'  a  hot  fire  ?  I  tould  him, 
and  he  turned  and  wint  off,  leaving  me  to  look  into  the 
eyes  of  a  poor  mechanic  in  jumper  and  overalls.  '  Who 
are  you  ? '  I  inquires  — '  Who  are  you,  to  be  listenin' 
to  the  speech  of  your  betthers  ? ' 

"  f  I  was  an  oiler  on  the  Emperor/  says  he ;  '  but  I 
have  been  the  keeper  of  an  insane  man  for  four  days 
and  four  nights.' 

"  I  drew  him  aside.  '  Spit  it  out !  '  I  encourages 
him.  '  Where  did  yez  leave  the  Emperor? ' 

"  '  Five  hundred  miles  at  sea,'  he  tould  me.  '  That 
crazy  felley  lost  his  wife  and  made  the  skipper  stop  the 
steamer  and  give  him  a  gasoline  launch  and  mesilf  as 
engineer;  and  for  four  days  and  four  nights  have  we 
been  traipsin'  across  the  deep  watthers  back  to  Honolulu. 
And  now  he  is  gone  widout  payin'  me  wages  nor  givin' 
me  the  price  of  a  drink ! ' 

"  '  Ye  drink  on  me,'  says  I.  And  I  dragged  him  to  a 
cafe  and  ordered  wid  insolince  and  joy. 

"  Out  of  that  poor  engineer  I  drew  the  story  of  what 
happened  on  the  ould  Emperor;  and  it  was  more  than 
sleep  to  a  tired  man.  Tommy  had  missed  his  wife  and 
discovered  only  after  dinner  where  she  had  gone,  whin 
the  steamer  was  out  of  sight  of  land.  'T  was  his  money 
and  his  reputation  as  a  philanthropist  that  kept  him 
from  being  put  in  irons  as  a  crazy  man.  In  the  end  he 
bought  the  big  gasoline  launch  from  the  skipper  and 
hired  the  fool  of  an  oiler  as  crew  and  set  back  to 
Honolulu. 

"  Whin  the  man  was  full  I  gave  him  a  dollar  and  wint 


MICHAEL    O'ROURKE  79 

to  the  hotel  and  asked  for  Mrs.  Stubbs.  The  flunkey 
returned  wid  Tommy  at  his  heels.  He  stared  at  me 
haughtily.  '  Me  wife  does  n't  care  to  see  you  again, 
Misther  O'Kourke,'  says  he.  '  And  I  '11  thank  ye  to 
keep  out  of  me  way  hereafter.  What  did  you  mean  by 
informin'  Mrs.  Stubbs  that  I  tould  yez  I  cared  little 
for  her  ?  Ye  are  a  liar !  ' 

"  So  I  came  away,  knowin'  that  if  he  hit  me  't  would 
be  from  a  full  hear-rt  —  and  I  niver  yet  let  a  happy 
man  hit  me;  for  I  am  ould  and  me  fighting  days  are 
past  —  wid  all  the  rest  of  it !  " 


THE    UNWILLING   WAR 
CORRESPONDENT 

THEEE  was  no  dinner  at  Mrs.  Hopkins's  boarding  house. 
While  the  landlady  made  profuse  apologies,  we  felt  that 
it  was  hardly  any  fault  of  hers.  Hito,  the  Japanese 
cook,  had  departed  suddenly,  after  the  manner  of  his 
race,  and  there  was  none  to  take  his  office  in  the  kitchen. 
We  condoled  with  Mrs.  Hopkins,  swallowed  the  cold 
victuals  she  offered  us  on  damp  plates,  and  gathered 
on  the  porch  to  discuss  the  eternal  question  of  the 
Yellow. 

There  did  n't  seem  to  be  much  to  say  that  was  novel. 
We  were  aggrieved,  and  said  so,  blaming  the  whole 
Japanese  nation  for  the  delinquency  of  Hito.  From 
personal  wrongs  we  gradually  shunted  to  the  main 
track  of  universal  problems,  and  restated  with  emphasis 
what  a  great  many  politicians  had  voiced  as  the  Public 
Demand  of  California.  We  ended  with  fervent  re 
grets  that  Russia  had  not  wiped  Japan  off  the  map  of 
the  world. 

This  was  Jefferson's  opening.  He  had  been  the  San 
Francisco  "  Times "  correspondent  in  the  Far  East, 
and  we  listened  to  the  hundredth  repetition  of  his  ad 
ventures,  hardships,  and  successes  —  the  last  barely 
recognized  by  a  jealous  fraternity. 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT        81 

When  Jefferson  came  to  a  full  stop,  two  hours  later, 
we  prepared  to  go  to  our  rooms.  The  school-teacher 
caused  us  delay  by  remarking,  in  his  mild  manner,  that 
he  envied  Jefferson  his  opportunities  for  a  full  and 
vivid  conception  of  the  Spirit  of  Japan.  "  I  was  by 
way  of  being  a  war  correspondent  myself,"  he  ventured 
gently. 

The  school-teacher  had  never,  so  far  as  we  knew 
from  his  conversation,  been  outside  of  the  very  mildest 
parts  of  the  United  States.  If  you  had  asked  one  of 
us  whether  Mr.  Parsons  had  ever  had  an  adventure, 
we  would  have  stared  and  remarked  that  he  was  de 
voted  to  his  work  in  the  school.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  was  not  a  voluntary  joker.  True,  he  frequently 
raised  a  laugh;  but  it  was  usually  at  himself,  and  not 
because  he  placed  anybody  else  in  a  humorous  light. 
So  we  stopped  in  our  general  movement  toward  bed 
rooms  and  listened  to  this  somewhat  extraordinary  an 
nouncement.  Jefferson  led  out  with  a  question: 

"So?    When  was  that?" 

"  During  the  Japanese  and  Russian  War,"  Mr.  Par 
sons  said. 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  were  in  journalism,"  said  Jeffer 
son.  "  Usually  I  know  one  of  the  brotherhood  at 
sight." 

Mr.  Parsons's  manner  was  apologetic.  "  I  was  n't 
what  you  might  call  a  journalist,"  he  said.  "  It  was 
only  to  oblige  a  friend.  I  was,  in  fact,  an  unwilling 
war  correspondent." 

Jefferson,  who  had  got  up,  sat  down  again.    "  That 's 


82      ACROSS  THE    LATITUDES 

rather  interesting,"  he  said  kindly.  "  I  never  heard 
of  an  unwilling  war  correspondent.  Indeed,  the  anxiety 
of  good  newspaper  men  to  go  to  the  front  was  such  that 
only  the  very  best  stood  any  show." 

The  school-teacher  seemed  uncomfortable.  "  I  don't 
pretend  to  have  done  anything  in  the  regular  way  at 
all,"  he  explained.  "  As  I  said,  my  attempting  to  act 
as  war  correspondent  for  the  '  American  Scientist '  was 
purely  to  oblige  a  friend.  I  was  quite  unwilling,  I 
assure  you.  You  see,"  he  went  on  confidentially,  "  my 
line  was  flour,  macaroni  flour." 

Jefferson  nodded,  and  his  comical  glance  assembled  us 
around  the  school-teacher.  "  Let 's  hear  about  the  un 
willing  war  correspondent  whose  real  line  was  macaroni 
flour,"  he  said  genially. 

Mr.  Parsons  did  n't  smile.  Instead,  he  flushed  pain 
fully,  as  he  sometimes  did  when  we  laughed  too  broadly 
at  his  little  ways.  "  I  know  it  sounds  ridiculous  to 
you,"  he  said  humbly;  "  but  I  saw  the  Battle  of  Mori- 
yoshi.  That  is,  I  was  under  it." 

Jefferson  flushed  himself.  "  I  never  heard  of  that 
battle,"  he  said  curtly.  "  I  presume  it  escaped  all  of 
us!  I  should  enjoy  being  enlightened." 

We  all  insisted,  partly  because  we  thought  Jeffer 
son's  manner  uncalled  for;  partly  because  we  were 
really  curious.  The  school-teacher  seemed  put  out,  but 
manfully  stuck  to  his  guns.  "  Of  course  you  never 
heard  of  it,"  he  said  briefly.  "  I  never  wrote  a  piece 
about  it.  If  you  had  heard  of  it  I  should  never  have 
ventured  to  mention  it.  I  have  already  said  that  I  was 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT        83 

unwilling  at  the  time,  and  I  certainly  claim  no  honor 
for  myself  in  having  yielded  to  the  importunity  of  a 
friend,  Lieutenant  Pettifer,  J.  P.  N." 

"  May  I  inquire  what  l  J.  P.  N.'  stands  for  ?  "  in 
quired  Jefferson  icily. 

"  Japanese  Navy,  I  believe,"  answered  the  school 
teacher.  "  At  least,  that  was  the  only  impression  I  got 
while  in  China." 

"  Very  likely,"  Jefferson  assented,  regaining  his  good 
humor.  "  Don't  let  me  interrupt." 

Mr.  Parsons  withdrew  his  slight  form  into  his  chair 
and  appeared  to  favor  the  dusk  which  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun  shot  with  dim  fire. 

My  line  was  macaroni  flour  (he  resumed).  I  studied 
chemistry  at  college  and  found  a  chance  to  go  into  the 
office  of  a  wheat  and  flour  broker  in  San  Francisco  who 
had  a  large  export  business.  You  may  not  know  that 
macaroni,  or  Italian  paste,  is  made  from  a  flour  pecul 
iarly  rich  in  gluten.  The  production  of  this  wheat 
depends  for  success  upon  many  elements  of  soil  and 
cultivation.  It  had  become  a  very  valuable  product,  and 
my  employer  devoted  a  large  portion  of  his  time  and 
capital  to  the  business  of  exploiting  this  article  of  com 
merce.  When  he  found  that  there  was  a  fine  market  for 
it  in  the  Orient,  he  decided  that  it  would  pay  to  discover 
whether  a  flour  rich  in  gluten  and  with  the  other  pe 
culiar  properties  which  make  Italian  wheat  so  valued 
might  not  be  manufactured  in  China  and  Japan  out  of 
wheat  grown  there.  He  commissioned  me  to  go  to  the 


84      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Orient  and  make  investigations  and  experiments  with  a 
view  to  introducing  this  new  industry. 

I  left  San  Francisco  and  spent  several  months  going 
over  the  arable  districts  of  Japan  before  the  war  broke 
out.  At  the  time  of  the  declaration  of  hostilities  I  was 
in  Hakodate,  preparing  for  an  exploratory  expedition 
into  Yezzo.  Naturally,  I  found  myself  in  a  very  em 
barrassing  position.  The  Straits  of  Sangar,  upon  which 
Hakodate  lies,  are  on  the  route  direct  to  Vladivostock, 
and  it  was  from  the  former  point  that  the  offensive 
preparations  of  the  Japanese  were  largely  made,  as 
Mr.  Jefferson  can  explain  to  you  better  than  I. 

Being  a  foreigner,  though  on  a  peaceful  mission,  it 
was  explained  to  me  with  all  politeness  that  I  had  better 
stay  in  Hakodate.  My  going  into  the  interior  would 
be  misunderstood.  In  fact,  the  authorities  could  not 
allow  it.  Moreover,  my  explorations  of  the  island  of 
Nippon  and  its  agricultural  resources,  it  was  felt,  might 
easily  be  made  use  of  by  the  enemy.  To  make  the 
matter  short,  I  was  forbidden  to  leave  Hakodate. 

At  first  I  devoted  my  energies  to  convincing  the 
officials  that  I  was  not  belligerent,  and  that  my  mission, 
being  one  of  peace  and  for  the  advancement  of  the  in 
dustrial  interests  of  Japan,  should  not  be  considered  in 
any  way  inimical  to  the  government.  But  Count  Hy- 
ashi,  to  whom  I  finally  appealed,  stated  that  as  I  knew 
the  exact  statistics  of  the  crops  and  soil  of  Japan,  my 
knowledge  was  too  valuable  to  the  Japanese  Government 
to  be  overlooked.  He  begged  me,  in  their  time  of  stress, 
to  devote  my  talent  and  experience  to  Japan.  In  fact, 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT        85 

he  offered  me  a  flattering  position  in  the  Imperial 
Bakery.  Upon  communication  (through  the  war  office) 
with  my  employer,  I  obtained  permission  to  accept  this 
offer.  For  the  next  six  months  I  was  very  busy  making 
a  full  test  of  the  nutritive  values  of  the  various  flours 
used  in  the  baking  of  the  supplies  for  the  forces  in 
the  field,  and  had  the  honor  of  introducing  a  bread  far 
superior  to  any  then  in  use,  and  one  which,  on  account 
of  the  non-variance  in  constituents,  would  keep  indefi 
nitely  without  loss  of  essential  nourishing  value. 

The  satisfaction  of  the  Government  with  my  efforts 
caused  the  officials  to  transfer  me  to  Mororan,  across 
the  Straits,  where  a  large  force  of  men  was  engaged 
in  baking  several  millions  of  rations  for  the  fleet.  Here 
I  had  a  school  of  instruction  in  bread  chemistry,  and  I 
may  say  that  it  was  due  to  the  quick  apprehension  of 
my  pupils  that  the  rations  issued  from  that  depot  were 
acknowledged  to  be  the  best  ever  provided. 

To  pass  over  these  small  services  I  shall  go  on  to  the 
circumstances  that  led  directly  to  my  accepting  the 
position  of  war  correspondent  and  my  consequent  pres 
ence  at  the  Battle  of  Moriyoshi. 

On  account  of  the  vast  quantities  of  coal  available 
at  Mororan,  that  port  was  used  as  a  point  of  departure 
for  many  vessels  of  the  Northern  Fleet.  It  was  also  used 
as  a  place  for  such  refitting  as  could  be  done  without 
the  use  of  a  dry  dock.  And  when  eighteen  submarines 
ordered  from  an  American  firm  were  delivered,  they 
were  delivered  at  Mororan. 

I  have  heard  it  said,  by  those  who  know,  that  sub- 


86      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

marines  were  not  well  known  by  the  Japanese.  How 
ever  that  may  be,  the  firm  that  made  those  unloaded  at 
Mororan  sent  with  them  a  force  of  American  workmen 
and  experts  to  put  them  in  order  and  to  instruct  the 
Japanese  in  their  use  and  management.  Among  these 
Americans  I  found  an  old  college  mate,  Pettif er,  who  was 
in  the  same  class  in  field  chemistry  with  me  in  college. 

Of  course  I  was  glad  to  see  Pettifer.  We  immedi 
ately  got  permission  to  lodge  together. 

I  soon  ascertained  that  the  submarines  were  not,  so 
to  speak,  a  finished  product.  Pettifer  explained  to  me 
that  there  were  many  chemical  and  scientific  calcula 
tions  in  their  construction  and  equipment  that  were  by 
no  means  of  settled  expediency.  He  himself  felt  that 
their  use  in  warfare  was  problematic,  as  yet;  in  his 
position  as  one  of  the  experts  in  charge  of  them  he 
would  not  answer  for  their  behavior. 

Having  the  common  interest  of  chemistry,  I  devoted 
what  time  I  could  spare  from  my  bakery  laboratory  to 
going  over  with  Pettifer  all  the  chemical  formulas  and 
processes  employed  in  the  production  of  power,  con 
servation  of  oxygen,  and  so  forth.  Probably  I  weary 
you.  I  will  pass  on  to  say  that  six  weeks  after  the 
arrival  of  the  submarines  the  announcement  was  made 
to  the  Japanese  Government  that  they  were  ready  for 
service.  There  followed  the  further  announcement  that, 
in  order  to  fulfill  the  contract  with  the  Japanese,  all 
the  experts  sent  over  by  the  constructing  company  were 
to  remain  in  the  employ  of  the  Government  as  instructors 
in  the  use  of  submarines.  I  remember  my  roommate 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT        87 

coming  to  me  with  a  very  large  sheet  of  paper  inscribed 
with  many  Japanese  characters.  He  said  it  had  been 
handed  to  him  by  the  depot  commandant. 

"  Here  is  a  commission  as  lieutenant  in  their  old 
navy,"  Pettifer  said.  "  Think  of  Willie,  Lieutenant 
Willie  Pettifer,  J.  P.  ET. !  " 

"  What  does  it  mean  ? "  I  asked  him. 

"  It  means  fighting,"  he  said  gravely.  "  To  tell  the 
truth,  Parsons,"  he  went  on,  "  this  submarine  work  is 
still  an  experiment.  Does  anybody  know  whether  No.  6 
(that  was  his  boat)  will  behave  according  to  specifica 
tions  in  service  ?  I  don't  The  Japs  don't.  I  'm  blessed 
if  I  know  anybody  who  does  know.  So  the  Government 
quietly  makes  the  company  put  us  fellows  in  to  run 
them.  And  that  keeps  anybody  from  running  around 
and  telling  the  world  that  Japan  has  submarines.  Oh, 
the  Japanese  are  smart  all  right!  But  I  say,  Parsons, 
is  n't  this  a  nice  job  for  little  Willie  Pettifer,  to  be 
put  in  charge  of  a  boat  like  No.  6?  Just  think  if  we 
were  trying  to  blow  up  a  big  Russian  battle  ship  and  a 
dollop  of  water  should  short-circuit  the  spark-coil !  " 

"  What  would  happen  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Either  the  torpedo  would  explode  in  the  tube,  or 
else  it  would  miss  its  object  by  six  degrees.  I  've 
figured  it  all  out,  you  see.  Take  your  choice.  Or  if 
we  were  using  the  gasoline  engines,  and  one  of  the  spark- 
coils  short-circuited,  we  'd  turn  around  before  we  could 
switch  in  another.  That  comes  of  having  twin  screws 
with  separate  engines." 

"  Two  engines  make  it  safer,"  I  remonstrated. 


88      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Pettifer  was  much  put  out  by  this  argument.  "  That 's 
not  the  question.  It 's  a  question  of  efficiency.  We  've 
got  eighteen  submarines  here.  If  every  submarine  an 
swers  for  one  Russian  war  ship  and  goes  to  the  bottom 
itself,  the  Japanese  Government  will  think  them  a 
success.  But  it  won't  be  satisfied  if  six  months  from 
now  the  Russians  still  have  their  battle  ships  and  we 
still  have  the  submarines." 

I  quote  this  remark  to  show  that  Pettifer  was  a  thor 
ough  workman  and  wrapped  up  in  his  profession. 

Nothing  happened  the  next  week  and  Willie  put  in 
his  time  polishing  up  No.  6  and  training  his  Japanese 
crew.  When  I  asked  him  how  the  Japanese  took  hold 
he  replied,  "  All  right.  Only  they  're  not  scientific  by 
instinct,  the  lower  class.  They  're  impatient.  My  best 
man  came  to  me  this  morning  and  wanted  to  know  if 
it  would  n't  be  cheaper  all  around  to  simply  run  No.  6 
alongside  the  enemy,  open  the  gasoline  tanks  and  the 
oxygen  tanks  and  then  spark  the  whole  business  to  king 
dom  come.  It  took  me  two  hours  to  prove  to  him  that 
a  perfect  mixture  of  gasoline  and  oxygen  would  n't  exert 
enough  force  to  dent  the  plates  of  a  battle  ship,  not 
counting  the  fact  that  the  experiment  would  cost  the 
Government  a  good  submarine  and  the  services  of  trained 
men.  I  don't  thing  the  man  sees  it  yet.  I  believe  he 
has  it  in  his  head  that  I  'm  a  coward  and  afraid." 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  "  I  demanded. 

Willie  Pettifer  always  was  an  honest  chap.  "  You 
bet  I  'm  afraid,"  he  said.  "  I  've  just  come  from  the 
admiral's,  and  I  told  him  I  would  n't  stand  for  any 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT        89 

such  unscientific  nonsense.  I  '11  have  discipline  or  run 
my  submarine  myself,  I  told  him.  I  don't  want  any 
banzai  patriot  blowing  me  and  my  machinery  up  just 
to  make  a  holiday.  A  'marine  is  a  scientific  instrument 
and  not  a  plaything  for  banzais  to  fool  with.  Either 
I  blow  up  properly  and  in  good  order  or  I  don't  blow  up 
at  all." 

"  What  did  the  admiral  say  ? "  I  asked. 

Willie  laughed.  "  He  did  n't  say  anything.  But  he 
took  my  man  and  put  him  to  work  in  the  coal  sheds. 
I  guess  the  admiral  is  n't  going  to  have  any  fireworks  not 
scheduled  by  himself." 

The  next  morning  Willie  came  round  to  my  office, 
hustled  a  couple  of  students  outside,  shut  the  door,  and 
flourished  an  order  in  my  face.  "  See  that !  "  he  de 
manded.  "  That 's  an  order  for  fifty  gallons  of  gasoline 
and  five  gallons  of  cylinder  oil.  I  'm  to  take  the  'marine 
to  sea  at  five  o'clock  this  afternoon  and  run  out  of  the 
Straits  eastwardly  one  hundred  miles,  submerged.  Now 
that  sounds  like  plain  English,  does  n't  it  ?  But  it 's 
the  imported  article.  Those  few  words  mean  that  I  'm 
to  sink  No.  6  in  her  slip,  periscope  my  way  out  of  the 
harbor  and  down  the  Straits  and  out  to  sea  one  hundred 
miles." 

"  It  sounds  like  it,"  I  agreed.     "  What  then  ?  " 

Willie  nearly  pulled  his  mustache  out  by  the  roots. 
"  That 's  it,"  he  growled.  "  That 's  the  Japanese  of  it. 
Now,  the  admiral  and  everybody  else  that  knows  any 
thing  at  all  about  these  submarines  knows  that  their 
radius  of  action  submerged  is  exactly  one  hundred  and 


90      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

ten  miles.  In  other  words,  when  No.  6  has  gone  her 
one  hundred  miles  and  comes  to  the  stop,  she  's  got  just 
ten  more  miles  to  go  submerged,  or  twenty  miles  on  the 
surface.  Will  Lieutenant  Willie  Pettifer,  J.  P.  N., 
kindly  go  to  the  top  story  of  a  twenty-story  building 
and  step  off  ?  That 's  the  gist,  sum,  and  substance  of 
that  order." 

"  Are  you  going  ?  "  I  demanded. 

"  Of  course  I  'm  going,"  he  said  crossly.  "  I  want 
you  to  go  along." 

"  That 's  really  kind  of  you,"  was  my  reply.  "  But 
I  'm  busy.  I  '11  go  with  you  some  other  day." 

"  I  don't  mean  it  the  way  it  sounds,"  Willie  protested. 
"  The  admiralty  has  got  some  scheme  up,  probably  a 
big  battle.  I  figure  that  when  we  run  out  there  and 
come  to  the  top  we  '11  find  a  Japanese  fleet  busily  en 
gaged  in  taking  off  a  Russian  fleet.  Maybe  we  '11  have 
something  to  do.  Anyway,  we  '11  be  brought  home. 
Don't  you  want  to  see  a  battle  ?  Besides  I  '11  be  the 
only  white  man  on  No.  6  and  I  want  company." 

"  I  could  n't  get  leave,  even  if  I  wanted  to  go,"  I 
said  warmly.  "  I  'd  do  a  great  deal  to  oblige  you, 
Willie,  but  I  can't  go." 

"  If  I  get  you  a  pass,  will  you  go  ?  "  Willie  insisted. 

Now  there  really  was  no  reason  why  I  should  n't  go. 
Besides,  he  explained  to  me  that  I  could  help  him  in 
keeping  track  of  the  various  apparatus  used  in  main 
taining  respirable  air,  even  temperature  and  so  forth. 
And  I  felt  sure  he  would  never  get  the  pass. 

That  was  where  I  mistook  Willie.     He  came  back  at 


noon  with  a  slip  of  paper  signed  by  the  admiral  himself. 
"  There  's  your  leave,"  he  announced.  "  You  are  to  go 
as  correspondent  of  the  '  American  Scientist.' 

"  But  the  '  American  Scientist '  does  n't  know  me 
from  Adam,"  I  said.  "  And  I  'm  no  war  correspondent. 
Besides,  they  're  not  giving  correspondents  any  privi 
leges  these  times.  Look  at  that  crowd  down  the  coast 
sitting  on  the  club  veranda  with  their  caps  over  their 
eyes." 

"  The  '  American  Scientist '  will  be  glad  to  get  an 
account  of  the  action  of  a  submarine  on  service,  written 
by  a  chemist,"  Willie  insisted.  "  And  when  the  admiral 
comes  down  off  his  high  horse  and  does  a  favor  for 
Lieutenant  Pettifer,  J.  P.  N.,  I  want  you  to  under 
stand  that  it 's  not  your  place  to  make  objections.  If 
you  will  read  that  piece,  of  paper  you  will  find  that 
you  are  under  my  orders." 

There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  take  off  my 
apron  and  go  with  him.  I  was  really  glad  to  go,  too. 
It  was  a  change  from  flour-testing  and  baking. 

Willie  made  me  take  my  pipe  and  tobacco  out  of 
my  pocket  and  went  through  me  to  see  if  I  had  any 
matches  on  me.  Then  he  gave  me  a  cigar.  "  Smoke 
that  while  you  can,"  he  said.  "  We  can't  smoke  in 
the  'marine." 

I  sat  down  on  a  pile  of  coal  in  the  depot,  while 
Willie  went  on  an  errand,  and  smoked  till  an  officer 
coming  by  took  the  cigar  from  me  and  carefully  ex 
tinguished  it  in  a  bucket  of  water.  He  told  me  smoking 
was  not  allowed  and  I  had  to  show  him  my  pass  from 


92      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

the  admiral  to  keep  from  going  to  the  guard  house. 
Then  Willie  came  by,  riding  on  a  coal  car,  jumped  off, 
took  me  by  the  arm,  and  hurried  me  off  down  to  the 
slips. 

No.  6  lay  under  a  shed,  the  farthest  in  the  long  row 
of  submarines.  She  looked  unusually  damp  and  dirty. 
Willie  said  he  had  been  giving  her  a  coat  of  grease. 
We  went  down  through  the  little  hatch  in  the  top  of 
the  steering  tower  and  Willie  soon  had  his  three  men 
busy  over  the  electric  motors  which  ran  the  'marine 
when  submerged.  Then  he  turned  over  the  gasoline 
engines  which  were  used  on  the  surface. 

"  I  've  had  her  in  apple-pie  order  for  ten  days,"  he 
said.  "  The  batteries  are  up  to  their  capacity  and  I 
can't  think  of  anything  else  we  ought  to  do.  I  wish 
we  could  carry  more  gasoline.  But  we  can't.  I  guess 
we  '11  start.  It 's  ten  minutes  to  five  now." 

I  went  out  on  deck  with  him  while  some  of  the 
dockyard  hands  eased  off  the  moorings.  No.  6  swung 
into  the  middle  of  her  slip  and  Willie  nodded  to  me. 
"  Below  with  you,  Parsons,"  he  said  quietly.  "  We  're 
going  to  submerge  in  the  slip." 

Just  then  the  admiral  strolled  up.  Willie  saluted. 
The  admiral  looked  at  his  watch,  but  said  nothing. 
A  pump  started  clanking  in  the  hull  and  No.  6  sank 
slowly  till  the  water  was  within  two  feet  of  the  hatch. 
The  admiral  snapped  his  watch  case  and  leaned  over 
toward  Willie.  He  handed  him  a  slip  of  paper.  "  Steer 
that  course,"  he  said  briefly. 

Willie   waved  his   hand   and   shoved  me   down  the 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT        93 

ladder.  Then  the  hatch  fell  into  place  and  I  could 
hear  him  breathe  as  he  twisted  the  lock  down  tight. 
The  electric  lights  came  on  and  the  pump  increased  its 
speed.  Willie  kept  his  eye  to  the  periscope  tube  and 
suddenly  the  pump  stopped  and  the  motors  began. 

I  could  feel  the  hull  start  forward.  I  went  off  my 
feet  at  a  sudden  upward  sway,  much  like  the  rise  of  a 
horse  at  a  fence.  One  of  the  Japs  picked  me  up,  and 
smiled.  Then  Willie  motioned  for  me  to  join  him  in  the 
little  steering  tower  —  a  steel  cylinder  about  four  feet 
in  diameter,  projecting  about  four  feet  above  the  upper 
shell  of  the  vessel.  "  That  was  a  shallow  place,"  he  said. 

"  I  'm  glad  it  was  n't  a  rock,"  I  murmured,  and 
Willie  said  he  was  glad,  too. 

"  One  has  to  trust  to  a  clear  channel,"  he  said.  "  But 
we  '11  soon  be  out  in  the  Straits,  and  then  we  '11  be  all 
right." 

I  can't  tell  just  how  many  times  there  was  that  sick 
ening  upward  motion  of  No.  6.  Each  time  I  could 
hear  the  gentle  swash  of  the  water  in  the  teakettle 
that  sat  on  a  little  electric  plate  just  below  me,  on  a 
shelf.  Then,  in  half  an  hour,  the  submarine  settled 
down  to  a  steady,  slightly  rolling  gait.  When  she  did 
that  Willie  told  me  to  look  into  the  periscope  tube.  I 
did  so  and  discovered  that  we  were  going  along  with 
a  bright  light  visible  far  away  on  the  left-hand  side. 
"That's  a  lighthouse,"  Willie  said.  "We're  sub 
merged  five  feet.  See  anything  else  ?  " 

I  examined  the  miniature  horizon  carefully,  but  could 
distinguish  nothing. 


94      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Willie  looked  again  and  nodded.  "  Over  there  on 
the  starboard  bow.  Still  there.  The  admiral 's  pretty 
clever,  is  n't  he  ?  " 

"  What 's  over  there  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"A  torpedo  boat  destroyer,"  Willie  answered.  "  She  's 
burning  no  lights,  but  I  can  see  the  glint  of  water  along 
her  sides.  That  boat,  Jap  though  she  be,  is  n't  as 
clever  as  little  Willie  Pettifer,  lieutenant,  J.  P.  N. 
I  can  see  her,  but  she  can't  see  me.  I  greased  my 
vessel,  and  there  is  n't  any  glint  of  water  about  No.  6. 
You  could  be  right  over  her  and  not  see  a  thing." 
Willie  laughed.  "  She 's  coming  cross  channel  to  see 
if  she  can't  pick  us  up.  The  admiral  is  smart,  is  n't  he  ? 
He  wants  us  to  get  away  without  anybody  knowing 
we  're  gone,  and  then  sends  a  destroyer  out  to  look  for 
a  Russian  submarine.  Suspicious  people,  are  n't  they, 
Parsons  ?  " 

I  agreed  with  him,  but  regretted  that  the  destroyer 
was  so  close.  "  She  might  run  onto  us,"  I  said.  "  Then 
what  would  we  do  ?  " 

Willie  grinned  across  the  steering  tower  at  me.  "  The 
admiral  fixed  that,"  he  chuckled.  "  That  destroyer  has 
orders  to  destroy  a  Russian  submarine  that  is  reported 
to  be  hovering  around.  Upon  consulting  the  paper  the 
admiral  handed  me  in  the  slip,  I  perceive  that  I  am 
to  use  '  war  measures  in  case  of  meeting  an  enemy  or 
suspicious  craft.'  Consequently,  if  that  destroyer  gets 
too  close,  we  '11  just  blow  her  up.  The  admiral  will 
understand." 

"  But  she  's  not  an  enemy,"  I  protested. 


"  How  am  I  to  know  that  ?  "  Willie  remarked.  "  I  'in 
taking  no  chances,  Parsons.  I  'm  Lieutenant  Pettifer, 
J.  P.  N.,  and  No.  6  is  going  to  do  what  she  was  told 
to  do,  if  ten  Japanese  destroyers  go  to  the  bottom.  I 
don't  intend  her  to  run  and  tell  the  admiral  she  saw  us. 
You  understand  ?  We  're  running  submerged.  Nobody 
sees  us.  Do  you  understand  ?  NOBODY  sees  us  I  " 

I  confess  that  this  remark  afforded  me  a  new  view 
of  Willie's  character,  and  I  reflected  upon  my  foolishness 
in  yielding  to  his  importunity  and  going  with  him  on 
so  desperate  an  expedition.  Such  meditation  was  not 
pleasant,  especially  as  there  recurred  to  my  mind  Wil 
lie's  statement  about  the  helplessness  of  No.  6  when  she 
should  finally  rise  to  the  surface  one  hundred  miles 
at  sea. 

My  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  Willie  calling  down 
for  the  mate  to  come  and  take  the  wheel.  The  Jap 
elbowed  himself  up  the  steps,  repeated  the  course  he  was 
to  steer,  and,  as  Willie  and  I  started  down  the  ladder, 
put  his  eye  to  the  periscope  tube.  We  climbed  down 
through  the  curtain  which  kept  the  tower  in  comparative 
darkness  and  into  the  lighted  hull. 

The  other  two  of  the  crew  were  busily  engaged  watch 
ing  the  flying  motors,  one  with  an  oil  can  in  one  hand, 
the  other  with  his  hand  on  the  switchboard.  Willie 
paid  no  attention  to  either  of  them,  but  carefully  went 
over  the  entire  interior,  from  bow  to  stern.  When  he 
came  back  and  sat  down  beside  me  on  the  grating,  his 
face  was  placid.  "  She  's  tight  as  a  bottle,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  And  the  machinery  is  working  first  class. 


96      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Of  course,  we  're  using  practically  none  of  the  oxygen 
as  yet,  as  I  'm  taking  air  in  through  an  elevated  pipe 
forward.  But  I  guess  it 's  up  to  me  to  get  rid  of  that 
destroyer  now.  She  's  fast,  three  times  as  fast  as  we 
are,  and  if  she  once  catches  sight  of  us  and  we  don't 
know  it,  she  can  put  us  out  of  business  in  three  minutes. 
There!  Kujiro's  seen  her." 

The  mate  was  whistling  gently,  and  Willie  disap 
peared  into  the  tower.  An  instant  later  the  two  men 
below  answered  an  electric  buzzer  by  starting  a  pump. 
No.  6  settled  quickly.  There  was  a  snap  of  valves  and 
the  click  of  starting  fans.  Then  the  pump  stopped  and 
Willie  came  down  the  steps.  "  We  're  thirty  feet  down," 
he  said.  "  I  guess  Mr.  Destroyer  won't  find  us  now. 
He  was  n't  half  a  mile  ahead.  Maybe  we  '11  pass  under 
him." 

The  hours  passed  slowly,  but  not  unpleasantly.  Apart 
from  the  gentle  sway  from  side  to  side  one  would  have 
supposed  the  vessel  to  be  at  rest  on  the  bottom.  Willie 
kept  going  and  coming  while  the  mate  stayed  at  the 
wheel.  At  midnight  he  wrote  up  the  log  and  figured 
our  position.  That  done,  he  handed  me  the  slate. 
"  We  've  made  fifty-three  miles  since  we  left  the 
slip,"  he  said.  "  That  leaves  us  forty-seven  to  go. 
We  're  just  sixteen  miles  off  shore.  I  wonder  if  that 
destroyer  is  still  around  ?  We  '11  sneak  up  at  two 
o'clock  and  see." 

At  a  quarter  of  two  Willie  called  the  mate  down  and 
went  to  the  wheel  himself.  A  little  later  he  summoned 
me  and  I  joined  him  in  the  cramped  tower.  "  I  'm 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT        97 

going  to  make  a  little  dash  up,"  he  explained.  "  I 
can't  waste  time  in  pumping  out  and  rising  in  dead 
water.  We  '11  just  make  a  little  jump  hurdle  wise.  Now 
keep  on  your  feet  and,  whatever  happens,  don't  say  a 
word." 

He  pressed  the  electric  indicator,  pulled  a  lever  with 
a  jerk,  and  No.  6  stuck  her  nose  up  at  an  angle  of  forty 
degrees.  There  was  a  roar  of  water  overhead,  the 
port  glass  foamed  before  my  eyes  and  Willie  jerked  out 
an  oath,  putting  the  steering  wheel  gently  over.  No.  6 
slid  from  under  my  feet,  dropped  her  nose,  and  the 
roar  of  the  water  died  away.  Almost  instantly  the 
pump  clanked  below.  Willie  leaned  over,  clipping  the 
words  with  his  teeth.  "  We  nearly  hit  her.  She  saw 
us.  Now  see  the  fun!  " 

The  machinery  sang  a  new  tune  and  I  realized  that 
the  motors  were  slowed  down  and  that  we  were  rising 
from  our  second  plunge.  Willie  watched  the  submer 
gence  dial  and  when  it  crept  up  to  ten  feet  put  his  eye 
to  the  periscope  tube.  We  turned  slowly,  as  I  could 
perceive  by  our  altered  motion.  Suddenly  he  reached 
over  and  pulled  another  lever.  The  machinery  started 
up  full  speed;  there  was  a  long  shrill  whistle  of  air 
through  the  hull,  and  the  submarine's  bow  leaped  up. 

"  Torpedo  gone,"  Willie  muttered.  "  Hope  it  does 
the  work.  Now  look !  " 

The  machinery  stopped  and  Willie  glued  his  eye  to 
the  periscope  tube.  I  saw  the  thick  glass  opposite  my 
eyes  suddenly  clear  and  a  red  flash  appear  No.  6 
shook  horribly  and  rose  and  fell  so  that  I  could  barely 


98      ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

maintain  my  hold.  I  was  aware  of  the  hot  breath  of 
the  mate  on  my  cheek.  Then  a  huge  wave  overwhelmed 
us  and  Willie  laughed. 

A  moment  later  No.  6  floated  in  the  long  swells  on 
the  surface  and  we  were  breathing  the  night  air  through 
the  open  hatch.  A  hundred  rods  away  I  saw  a  torn 
pillar,  slashed  with  red,  heave  out  of  the  sea  and  slowly 
sink,  endwise.  Kujiro,  leaning  over  my  shoulder, 
breathed  through  his  teeth.  "  Japanese !  "  he  hissed, 
clutching  my  arm  cruelly. 

Willie  turned  his  eyes  on  the  mate  with  a  look  I 
had  not  imagined  possible  on  his  face.  "  Japanese,"  he 
assented  icily.  "  Go  below  and  start  the  motors." 

The  mate  did  not  stir.  His  black  eyes  fixed  on 
Willie  and  his  lips  drew  back  over  his  teeth. 

"  Go  below !  "  Willie  ordered  again. 

Kujiro  snorted  and  let  out  a  wild  cry.  I  remember 
a  flash  in  my  eyes  and  came  to  myself  to  find  the  mate 
a  dead  weight  in  my  arms  In  fact,  he  was  dead. 
Willie  put  his  revolver  back  in  his  pocket  and  called 
down  the  steps.  One  of  the  crew  answered  and  Willie 
motioned  to  him  to  relieve  me  of  Kujiro's  body.  "Throw 
it  overboard,"  he  commanded. 

The  man  obeyed,  very  carefully.  The  body  slipped 
off  the  grating  we  stood  on,  dragged  a  moment  on  the 
sloping  curve  of  the  deck,  and  then  slid  down  into  the 
water  as  a  swell  rolled  us  heavily  in  its  trough. 

Then  I  remembered  the  destroyer  and  looked  about 
to  see  her.  The  sea  was  vacant  except  for  a  field  of 
white  'way  to  starboard  of  us. 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT        99 

When  we  were  once  more  in  the  steering  tower,  and 
the  motors  were  going  again,  and  the  submergence  dial 
showed  twelve  feet,  Willie  leaned  over  to  say,  "  Those 
patriots  don't  understand  modern  warfare.  But  the 
admiral,  he  understands.  He  's  scientific.  Make  a  note 
of  that,  Parsons.  You  're  seeing  genuine  scientific  of 
fensive  operations  this  time.  I  just  begin  to  see  it 
myself." 

The  night  settled  down,  it  seemed  to  me,  into 
quietness.  No.  6  hummed  on  her  way  through 
the  water  with  satisfying  steadiness.  But  some 
how 'I  could  not  lose  sight  of  a  big  field  of  white 
foam  heaving  in  the  darkness  where  a  moment  before 
a  steel  pillar,  slashed  with  red,  had  disappeared  into 
the  depths. 

At  four  o'clock  Willie  called  one  of  the  crew  to  take 
the  wheel,  and  entered  his  figurings  upon  the  log  slate. 
"  We  're  seventy  miles  on  our  way,"  he  remarked. 
"  Thirty  to  go."  Then  he  carefully  wrote  at  the  bottom 
of  the  slate  these  two  items: 

At  2  A.M.  we  torpedoed  an  unknown  destroyer  which  attacked 
us.  She  sank  at  2:06  A.M.,  bow  first. 

Kujiro,  first-class  gunner,  mutinied  and  was  shot  by  myself 
at  2:09  A.M.  His  body  was  thrown  into  the  sea  by  my  order. 
W.  PETTIFER,  Lieutenant,  J.P.N. 

Daylight  appeared  in  the  periscope  tube.  Neither 
of  us  could  distinguish  anything  on  the  gray  horizon. 
But,  as  Willie  remarked,  the  elevation  of  the  periscope 
was  so  slight  that  we  could  not  see  more  than  a  couple 


100    ACROSS     THE    LATITUDES 

of  miles  in  any  direction.  "  We  still  have  twenty  miles 
to  go,"  he  said  briefly.  "  Now,  here  's  where  we  drop 
clean  out  of  sight." 

We  apparently  lost  speed  by  this  last  submergence, 
and  the  motors  hummed  heavily,  as  if  they  were  working 
against  an  overload.  Willie  examined  them  frequently, 
leaving  me  to  steer  by  the  compass.  Each  time  he  in 
structed  me  under  no  circumstances  to  touch  any  of 
the  levers  that  lined  the  little  tower.  As  we  drew  to 
the  close  of  our  journey  he  seemed  disturbed,  and  I  saw 
him  repeatedly  look  into  the  huge  battery  tanks,  as  if 
to  see  how  they  stood  the  drain  on  their  stored 
power. 

"  It 's  a  tight  pinch,"  he  remarked,  as  the  clock 
tinkled  nine.  "  We  shall  make  it  to  the  dot.  And  we  've 
kept  our  course  like  a  liner,  too,  unless  my  calculations 
are  at  fault.  But  —  " 

His  pause  was  so  suggestive  that  I  repeated  his  "  but " 
questioningly. 

"  We  shan't  have  power  enough  to  maneuver  fifteen 
minutes  when  we  arrive,"  he  said  curtly. 

"  How  about  the  gasoline  engines  ?  "  I  demanded. 

"  All  right  on  the  surface,"  he  answered,  "  but  I 
dare  n't  run  awash  with  them  going.  And  to  submerge 
and  rise  again  we  must  have  electricity.  I  tell  you, 
Parsons,  that 's  where  these  boats  are  still  in  the  experi 
mental  stage.  Here  we  are  going  to  bob  up  out  in  the 
Pacific,  probably  in  a  heavy  sea,  inside  a  thin  shell,  with 
not  enough  power  to  get  back  into  sight  of  land  even  if 
we  run  our  engines.  And  I  see  the  batteries  are 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      101 

damaged.  I  '11  have  to  use  the  engines  to  re-charge  them. 
Otherwise  we  '11  be  helpless  indeed  and  in  a  pretty  bad 
fix." 

I  had  learned,  enough  about  submarines  during  my 
sojourn  with  Willie  in  Mororan  to  know  that  they  de 
pended  for  every  movement,  for  their  very  balance  in 
the  water,  upon  nicely  adjusted  electrical  machinery. 
I  could  perfectly  understand  that,  without  power  of 
that  kind,  we  would  indeed  be  helpless. 

"  What  are  your  orders  when  you  arrive  at  this  spot 
in  the  ocean  ? "  I  demanded. 

Willie  seemed  to  regain  his  spirits  instantly.  He 
chuckled.  "  The  admiral  is  a  wonder !  "  he  ejaculated. 
"  There  are  no  orders !  " 

"  No  orders !  "  I  repeated.  "  How  are  we  to  get 
back?" 

He  tugged  at  his  mustache.  "  How  do  I  know  ? 
How  do  I  know  whether  we  are  to  get  back  at  all? 
How  do  I  know  what  the  admiral  has  in  mind  ?  One 
thing,  Parsons  —  just  remember,  we  are  part  of  a  scien 
tific  calculation." 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  the  solution,"  I  remarked,  much 
nettled  at  the  situation  in  which  I  found  myself. 

Willie  paid  no  attention  to  me.  "  There  are  a  good 
many  factors  in  this  problem  of  the  admiral's,"  he  went 
on  musingly.  "  There  's  this  'marine  and  all  the  cal 
culations  behind  it ;  there  's  me  and  those  two  human 
beings  below  in  the  hull;  there  was  Kujiro;  the  de 
stroyer  ;  and  then,  my  dear  Parsons,  there  's  you,  the 
war  correspondent  of  the  '  American  Scientist.'  Oh, 


102    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

the  admiral 's  a  great  man !  "  he  concluded  warmly. 
Then  he  said,  "  Here  we  are !  " 

The  motors  hummed  into  silence,  and  the  pump 
slowly  began  to  work.  We  listened  to  it,  and  Willie 
kept  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  indicator  that  marked  the 
progress  of  emptying  the  ballast  tanks.  Presently  he 
shook  his  head.  "  We  can't  make  it  under  this  pres 
sure,"  he  said  crossly.  "  There  is  n't  as  much  power 
left  as  I  thought.  The  batteries  have  gone  to  pieces. 
We  have  n't  risen  an  inch.  I  told  O'Brien  when  he 
braced  that  for'ard  tank  that  the  skin  was  not  strong 
enough.  It 's  giving  in,  Parson's.  Now  I  hope  it  holds 
against  the  pressure  for  another  five  minutes.  We  '11 
see!" 

It  was  not  comforting  to  realize  that  the  great  pres 
sure  of  the  water  at  the  depth  at  which  we  were  was 
crushing  in  the  steel  hull  as  fast  as  the  water  in  the 
tanks  was  withdrawn.  Far  less  comforting  to  follow 
Willie's  steady  finger  and  see  by  the  submergence  dial 
that  we  were,  in  fact,  sinking.  He  called  down  into 
the  engine  room. 

The  motors  started  again,  and  No.  6  quivered  slightly 
as  she  gathered  way  under  their  slow  impulse.  Willie 
watched  his  indicators  an  instant  after  the  swaying 
motion  of  the  vessel  steadied.  Then  he  jerked  a  lever 
toward  him.  No.  6  threw  her  prow  upward  as  the 
horizontal  rudders  caught  her.  She  surged  slowly 
toward  the  surface.  I  heard  the  pumps  gather  speed. 
Willie  chuckled.  "  That  fetched  her,"  he  said.  "  Now 
let 's  see  where  we  are." 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      103 

No.  6  came  to  rest  with  her  hull  just  awash,  as  I 
perceived  by  the  foam  appearing  and  reappearing  over 
the  port  glasses.  Willie  was  staring  into  the  periscope 
tube.  He  straightened  up  and  smiled.  "  I  guess  we  '11 
just  pump  out  some  more  and  go  topside  and  have  a 
smoke,"  he  said. 

When  No.  6  rolled  easily  in  the  swell,  and  when  we 
were  indeed  afloat,  we  unscrewed  the  little  hatch  and 
climbed  out  and  down  on  the  slippery  deck.  I  was 
surprised  to  find  how  fresh  the  air  was. 

"  We  've  been  using  tank  oxygen  for  several  hours," 
Willie  explained.  "  But  I  was  sparing  of  it.  Have  a 
cigar  and  look  round." 

I  took  the  cigar  he  offered  me  and  was  soon  enjoying 
it.  Willie,  with  another  one  between  his  teeth,  climbed 
forward  to  the  bowl-shaped  bow  and  knelt  there,  run 
ning  his  fingers  along  the  seams  where  the  steel 
plates  were  riveted  together.  He  came  back  shaking 
his  head.  "  That  upper  tank  is  in  bad  shape,"  he 
said  briefly.  "  I  'd  hate  to  have  to  submerge  again 
with  our  weak  power.  I  'm  afraid  that  tank  will 
collapse." 

I  had  nothing  to  say  to  reassure  him,  and  he  soon 
had  an  extensible  mast  brought  up  and  stepped  in  the 
deck.  When  it  was  stayed  lightly  he  took  his  binocu 
lars  and  climbed  up  to  get  a  view  all  around  the  hori 
zon.  While  he  was  so  engaged  I  put  my  cigar  aside  and 
ate  a  plate  of  rice  and  drank  some  tea  which  one  of  the 
crew  handed  up  to  me. 

Willie  came  down,  had  something  to  eat  himself,  went 


104    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

below,  and  spent  an  hour  going  over  his  machinery.  He 
came  on  deck,  ascended  the  mast,  came  down  immedi 
ately,  and  said  grimly,  "  I  thought  so." 

"  Thought  what  ?  "  I  demanded. 

"  That  I  'd  have  to  start  those  gasoline  engines  and 
recharge  my  batteries  instead  of  using  the  gasoline  to 
turn  the  propellers,"  he  responded  enigmatically. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  heard  the  cough  of  the  en 
gines  and  the  whir  of  a  dynamo.  I  went  below  and 
found  Willie  covered  with  oil  and  grime.  "  Next  sub 
marine  I  build,"  he  said  crossly,  "  I  '11  not  scamp 
machinery.  I  '11  have  a  separate  engine  to  run  the 
dynamo.  No  sense  in  having  to  uncouple  the  main 
engines  from  the  shafts  this  way.  It  makes  the  boat 
helpless  for  the  time  being." 

This  discovery  bothered  him  for  the  next  hour.  Then 
he  went  on  deck  again  and  held  some  conversation  with 
the  man  he  had  put  on  watch  there.  He  called  to  me. 
When  I  reached  his  side  he  pointed  far  to  the  south. 
A  plume  of  dark  smoke  lay  on  the  sea's  edge. 
"  That 's  not  a  Jap,"  said  Willie.  "  That 's  a  Euss, 
burning  compressed  coal.  And  compressed  coal  means 
a  war  ship.  And  a  Russian  war  ship  in  these  waters 
means  —  " 

"  Means  what  ?  "  I  asked. 

Willie  winked  at  me  solemnly.  "  It  means  that  the 
admiral  was  most  tremendously  smart." 

I  failed  to  see  the  point,  and  said  so.  Willie  was  very 
patient  and  explained.  "  The  admiral  hears  that  there 
are  Russian  war  ships  coming  in  from  the  eastward,  in- 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      105 

tending  to  ship  through  La  Perouse  Straits  and  across 
to  Vladivostock.  Now,  the  admiral  does  n't  go  and  dis 
play  his  knowledge  all  over  the  town.  He  comes  to  his 
office  and  sends  for  me.  '  I  '11  just  have  Lieutenant 
Pettifer,  J.  P.  N.,  quietly  take  No.  6  and  leave  Moro- 
ran.  Not  even  the  ships  in  the  harbor  will  know  he  's 
gone,  for  he  's  going  submerged.  And  I  '11  just  send 
Lieutenant  Pettifer  out  where  the  Honorable  Russian 
will  pass  by.  Lieutenant  Pettifer  can't  come  back.  He 
can't,  unless  he  gets  gasoline  from  Gabriel.  We  '11  just 
see  what  Lieutenant  Pettifer  will  do  under  those  cir 
cumstances.'  That,"  said  Willie,  "  is  what  the  old  sci 
entist  said  to  himself." 

"  Will  you  please  tell  me,  Willie,"  I  interrupted, 
"  why  the  admiral  let  me  go  along  with  you  ?  " 

He  grinned.  "  You  were  sent,  my  boy.  The  admiral 
did  n't  want  anybody  to  know  No.  6  was  gone  to  sea 
instead  of  being  merely  submerged  in  her  slip.  So  he 
told  me  to  get  you  to  go  along.  He  said  you  could  go  as 
a  war  correspondent.  In  fact,  I  guess  you  are  an  un 
willing  war  correspondent." 

I  agreed  with  Willie  as  to  this,  but  reminded  him  that 
in  reality  I  had  only  yielded  to  his  importunity  as  a 
friend.  "  I  'd  never  have  come,  except  for  that,"  I 
protested. 

"  All  right,"  said  Willie.  "  I  appreciate  that,  and 
feel  the  worse  because  you  came  under  those  circum 
stances.  But  I  'm  glad  to  have  you,  anyway,  for  there 
is  business  ahead." 

"  What  business  ?  "  I  inquired. 


"  Those  war  ships,"  he  responded,  pointing  to  the 
fast-thickening  smoke.  "  Hashi  tells  me  there  are  two 
of  them." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  I  said  anxiously.  "  I 
thought  you  were  helpless  —  that  No.  6  was  out  of 
business." 

"  My  orders  read  to  '  use  war  measures  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  enemy,'  "  Willie  replied  briefly.  "  Now 
we  '11  get  ready." 

Getting  ready  consisted  in  pumping  every  tank  out, 
examining  the  air-dryers  and  the  apparatus  for  controll 
ing  descent  and  ascent,  and  in  charging  the  batteries  as 
much  as  we  could.  Willie  explained  to  me,  when  this 
was  done,  that  he  had  been  inside  the  forward  tank  and 
had  tried  the  seams.  "  It  '11  have  to  hold,"  he  said. 
"  If  it  don't,  I  'm  afraid  the  Russians  will  have  the  best 
of  us." 

I  did  my  best  to  expound  to  him  the  preposterous 
folly  of  attempting  to  grapple  with  two  well-prepared 
battle  ships  in  a  submarine  whose  behavior  was,  to  say 
the  least,  problematic.  Willie  heard  me  out,  and  as 
serted  that  he  was  responsible  for  the  good  name  of  the 
submarines.  "  I  'm  here  for  the  builders  in  America," 
he  said.  "  And  the  admiral  has  figured  it  all  out.  It 's 
a  scientific  calculation,  and  we  must  do  our  part."  So 
far  as  I  recollect,  he  said  nothing  else  till  he  gave  orders 
to  close  the  hatch  and  to  submerge.  It  was  with  deep 
regret  that  I  saw  the  water  surge  over  the  port  glasses. 
I  was  not  reassured  when  Willie  asked  me  to  go  below 
and  see  what  the  pressure  in  the  compressed  air  tank 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      107 

was.  I  reported,  and  lie  seemed  satisfied.  Later,  as 
No.  6  swayed  gently  along,  Willie  remarked  that  he 
would  be  glad  of  the  room  occupied  by  the  two  torpedoes 
remaining.  "  When  they  're  gone  we  '11  have  less 
trouble  with  that  for'ard  tank.  In  fact,  Parsons,"  I 
remember  him  saying,  with  a  comical  twist  to  his  mouth, 
"  we  may  have  to  get  rid  of  those  torpedoes  in  order  to 
keep  No.  6  from  going  to  the  bottom." 

He  said  nothing  more. 

At  last,  just  about  noon,  he  motioned  for  me  to  look 
through  the  periscope.  I  saw  two  war  ships,  about  half 
a  mile  apart,  both  steaming  slowly.  The  nearest  one 
was,  as  nearly  as  I  could  judge,  about  a  mile  away. 
When  I  had  looked,  Willie  glued  his  eye  to  the  tube 
again  and  slowly  turned  the  steering  wheel.  "  I  'm 
going  to  get  the  foremost  one,"  he  remarked,  ten  minutes 
later,  as  he  pulled  a  lever. 

No.  6  lifted  her  nose  and  surged  up  as  the  missile  left 
her.  A  moment  later  we  swam  upon  the  surface. 
Willie  threw  the  wheel  over  and  the  submarine  wal 
lowed  downward  again  like  a  porpoise,  her  whole  frame 
rasping  and  quivering.  At  the  instant  she  answered 
her  rudders  and  rolled  to  an  even  keel  the  lights  set  in 
hoods  by  the  indicator  dials  flashed  and  went  out.  Ap 
parently  I  stubbed  my  toe  and  was  flung  headlong  down 
the  steps  into  the  lower  hull. 

I  regained  my  feet  quickly,  although  No.  6  was  shud 
dering  from  bow  to  stern  and  her  decks  fairly  heaved. 
I  perceived,  by  the  light  of  a  dim  lantern,  the  two  Japs. 
One  of  them  was  bending  over  the  motor  casing  on  the 


108    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

starboard  side,  while  the  other  gaped,  open-mouthed,  at 
something  I  could  not  see.  Willie  dropped  on  his  feet 
on  the  lower  deck  and  called  quietly,  "  Short-circuit, 
boys!" 

It  was  then  that  I  realized  the  discipline  Willie  en 
forced.  The  men  responded  to  his  voice  like  trained 
dogs,  and,  during  the  fifteen  minutes  ensuing,  the  war 
correspondent  of  the  "  American  Scientist  "  stood  on  the 
steel  plates,  held  to  the  railing  on  the  steps  leading  to 
the  steering  tower,  and  perspired.  The  whole  interior 
of  the  hull  glowed  with  sparks  of  fire  and  flashes  of 
electricity. 

How  they  managed,  I  could  not  tell  you.  But  the 
lights  came  on  again,  though  dimly,  and  the  motors 
started  hesitatingly.  With  the  instinct  of  self-preser 
vation  I  went  up  into  the  steering  tower.  It  was 
nearer  the  surface,  at  least.  The  first  thing  I  saw 
was  the  submergence  dial.  We  were  113  feet  under 
water. 

I  stared  at  this,  feeling  that  I  must  tell  Willie.  But 
I  confess  I  had  not  courage  to  go  below  again.  The 
little  light  illuminating  the  dial  brightened  slowly,  and, 
as  it  did  so,  I  saw  the  indicator  needle  move  on  to  114, 
then,  with  a  sudden  slip,  to  119.  Willie  leaned  over  my 
shoulder.  "  I  wonder  if  we  got  that  battle  ship  ?  "  he 
muttered.  "  The  torpedo  did  n't  have  far  to  go  and  the 
explosion  started  some  of  our  plates,  I  perceive.  Messed 
my  wiring  up  a  little,  too." 

I  laid  my  finger  silently  on  the  dial. 

"  Pretty  deep,  is  n't  it  ?  "  Willie  remarked  quietly. 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      109 

"  And  that  f  or'ard  tank  is  full  of  water.  But  we  must 
get  that  other  ship." 

He  dropped  down  into  the  hull  and  I  heard  the 
clanking  of  the  pump.  It  did  n't  sound  very  lively 
and  when  Willie  shouted  for  me  I  decided  that  we  had 
reached  the  end  of  our  course.  I  went  down  feeling 
quite  reconciled.  I  found  Willie  and  the  crew  busily 
engaged. 

"  Hand-pump,"  he  said  briefly.  "  Use  your  muscle 
on  this." 

The  two  Japs  were  gearing  up  the  pump,  and  in  an 
other  minute  I  had  hold  of  a  steel  bar  which  I  worked 
back  and  forth  under  Willie's  direction.  "  It  '11  get 
easier  as  we  rise,"  he  remarked.  "  Keep  on,  even  if  you 
drop." 

The  Japs,  stripped  to  the  waist,  labored  mechanically 
and  efficiently.  It  would  be  impossible  to  tell  you  how 
laborious  our  toil  was.  We  were  pumping  against  the 
horrible  pressure  of  the  water  in  which  we  were  sub 
merged,  and  I  assure  you  that  within  five  minutes  I 
heard  nothing  except  the  dull  opening  and  shutting  of 
the  heavy  check  valves. 

Willie  went  to  and  fro  swiftly  and  noiselessly.  His 
face,  as  he  passed  under  the  lights,  showed  as  calm  and 
serene  as  if  we  were  in  No.  6's  slip  and  not  sinking  in 
the  bottomless  Pacific  in  a  leaky  cylinder  of  steel.  Once 
or  twice  he  stopped  and  glanced  keenly  over  us.  The 
third  time  I  noticed  that  the  Japs'  faces  were  suffused 
with  purple  and  that  the  veins  in  their  necks  stood  out 
blackly.  They  toiled  on,  steadily.  It  struck  me  that 


110    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

they  would  soon  give  out.  For  myself  I  felt  fairly 
strong  though  with  a  queer  sense  of  giddiness,  probably 
due  to  the  unusual  exertion. 

Willie  came  by  again  and  paused  to  say,  "  We  '11  rise 
stern  foremost." 

Another  time  he  came  and  smiled.  "  You  fellows 
are  n't  making  much  progress,"  he  said.  "  I  think  I  '11 
have  to  give  you  a  drink." 

My  mouth  dried  up  like  a  piece  of  paper  in  the  fire 
at  the  very  suggestion.  Willie  smiled  again  and  reached 
overhead  to  a  stop-cock.  I  heard  a  sharp  hiss,  and  a 
current  of  cold  air  struck  my  shoulders.  I  took  a  deep 
breath  and  was  amazed  at  the  effect.  I  instantly  re 
gained  my  strength.  I  saw  the  Japs  look  up  dully  and 
then  redouble  their  efforts. 

No  words  I  could  use  would  convey  the  proper  im 
pression  of  our  industry.  You  will  imagine  that  men 
fighting  for  life  would  toil  incessantly  and  desperately. 
But  our  prodigious  efforts  were  not  the  result  of  fear  or 
despair.  We  were  exhilarated,  elevated  above  all  perils 
and  disaster.  Our  strength  flowed  out  into  that  pump 
gloriously.  Our  eyes  shone.  Our  hearts  beat  strongly, 
evenly,  and  without  pain.  I  swear  to  you  we  could  have 
lifted  No.  6  bodily  out  of  the  depths  to  which  she  was 
gone.  And  so  we  drove  those  pump  bars  back  and  forth 
as  if  they  were  straws. 

How  long  we  labored  I  am  unable  to  say.  I  had  set 
my  whole  mind  on  my  task.  Occasionally  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Willie  peering  through  the  heavy  vapor  that 
surrounded  us.  Once  or  twice  I  heard  his  voice,  ringing 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      111 

bell-like,  saying  some  encouraging  and  unnecessary 
word. 

Suddenly  he  loomed  like  a  shadow  over  us.  "  We  've 
risen  to  fifty  feet,"  he  said. 

I  smiled.  The  Japs  drew  their  thin  lips  back  over 
their  teeth  and  smiled,  too.  How  we  drove  that  leaky 
shell  upward  from  the  ooze!  How  our  arms  sped  and 
our  hands  grasped  and  the  check  valves  thundered  as  we 
thrust  the  water  out !  What  a  din  we  made !  The  hol 
low  cavern  of  the  hull  resounded.  And  as  the  clamor 
of  our  vast  toil  rolled  back  and  forth  No.  6  surged 
upward. 

Willie  opened  the  hatch.  The  sunlight  poured  down 
upon  us.  The  chill  sea  wind  blew  on  our  heated  bodies. 
We  cooled  like  irons  in  a  blacksmith's  tub.  The  pump 
levers  suddenly  were  infinitely  heavy.  We  threw  our 
dead  weight  against  them  and  they  gave,  creakingly. 
They  stopped.  We  could  not  move  them. 

Willie  came  down  the  steps  and  stared  at  us.  "  That 
undiluted  oxygen  is  great  stuff,"  he  murmured  from  a 
great  distance.  "  Regular  elixir  of  life !  " 

We  fell  away  from  the  levers  and  slumped  down  on 
deck.  The  cold  air  played  over  me,  stifled  me.  Then 
somebody  poured  a  bucket  of  cold  water  on  me  and  I 
died. 

That  is,  I  thought  I  died.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  sat 
up  and  swore  at  Willie.  He  reached  down  and  helped 
me  to  my  feet.  "  You  may  not  know  it,"  he  said, 
"  but  you  fellows  have  been  pumping  two  hours  and  a 
half.  Now,  if  you  can  wiggle  your  limbs,  we  '11  try  and 


112    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

get  this  old  tub  into  fighting  shape  again.  That  other 
war  ship  is  lying  two  miles  away,  disabled.  We  landed 
the  first  one,  all  right." 

He  dragged  me  up  through  the  hatch  and  to  the  little 
deck.  No.  6  lay  almost  awash,  her  bow  canted  down 
ward.  Just  on  the  edge  of  the  sea  I  made  out  the  bulk 
of  the  surviving  Russian.  That  apparition  was  enor 
mous  and  appalling.  I  clutched  Willie's  arm  in  pro 
test.  "  You  are  n't  going  to  try  to  torpedo  her  ? "  I 
demanded. 

Willie  almost  shook  my  hand  off.  "  Lieutenant 
Pettifer,  J.  P.  N.,  is  in  command  of  this  fish,"  he  said 
curtly.  "  Kindly  go  below  and  drive  those  Japs  on 
deck." 

They  came,  staggering,  with  bloodshot  eyes.  He  re 
ceived  them  with  flying  orders.  They  hesitated,  glanced 
dully  about  them,  and  gradually,  as  though  gathering 
momentum,  went  about  their  duties. 

For  an  hour  they  worked  out  on  the  bow  of  the  'ma 
rine,  Willie  thrusting  them  around  in  the  washing  water 
like  dolls.  They  came  in,  soaked  through,  dripping 
with  perspiration  in  spite  of  the  chill  wind  and  chiller 
waves.  "  I  guess  those  plates  are  fixed  enough  for  an 
other  try,"  said  Willie,  dropping  a  heavy  hammer 
through  the  hatch.  "  Now  we  '11  pump  her  out  some 
more." 

My  skin  pinched  my  flesh  at  the  words.  But  he  drove 
us  below  with  a  smile,  did  Willie,  and  put  our  hands  on 
the  levers  and  —  and  we  pumped.  When  we  fell  away 
from  the  bars,  unable  to  exert  another  ounce  of  strength, 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      113 

he  smiled  widely.  "  We  're  all  right  now,"  he  an 
nounced  cheerfully. 

He  coupled  up  the  gasoline  engines  and  investigated 
the  fuel  tank.  "  I  guess  we  '11  just  about  make  it,"  he 
said  to  me  as  he  passed  into  the  steering  tower.  "  I  '11 
save  what 's  left  in  the  batteries  for  maneuvering  when 
we  get  there.  Lucky  that  battle  ship  is  disabled. 

No.  6  gathered  way  through  the  heaving  waves  under 
the  propulsion  of  the  coughing  engines.  Down  in  the 
hull  the  heat  grew  torrid  and  the  fumes  of  escaping  gas 
choked  us  horribly.  But  the  Japs  stayed  at  their  sta 
tions  doggedly,  and  when  I  essayed  to  go  into  the  little 
tower  and  Willie  made  room  for  me  I  found  the  air 
there  far  worse  than  below.  The  hatch  was  screwed 
down  and  Willie  was  peering  through  a  little  peep-hole 
set  with  thick  prisms  of  glass. 

I  looked  through  the  periscope  and  saw  the  huge  ship 
rolling  about  a  half  mile  distant  from  us.  Her  stern 
was  toward  us. 

"  They  're  pretty  busy  on  that  ship,"  Willie  remarked, 
"  otherwise  they  'd  see  us.  Guess  they  ran  into  the 
wreckage  of  the  first  one  and  fouled  their  propellers. 
I  hope  the  sun  won't  set  right  in  our  eyes." 

He  pressed  a  button  and  I  heard  the  shifting  of  a 
heavy  body  below  and  the  clang  of  a  steel  gate.  "  There 
goes  our  last  torpedo  into  the  firing  tube,"  Willie  ex 
plained.  "  And  I  've  got  to  use  oxygen  to  discharge  it 
with.  Compressed  air  is  all  used  up.  But  these  tor 
pedoes  travel  anyway,  once  clear  of  the  tube." 

At  that  instant  a  puff  of  smoke  rose  from  the  stern 


114    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

of  the  war  ship,   and   almost  simultaneously   a   shell 
screeched  over  No.  6. 

"  In  line,  but  too  high,"  Willie  said.  "  Seeing  they 
know  we  're  here  I  guess  we  '11  scare  them  to  death." 

Once  more  No.  6  settled  in  the  water.  The  gasoline 
engines  stopped  and  the  motors  began  to  rumble. 

A  vague  terror  seized  me  as  I  realized  that  we  were 
dropping.  I  was  aware  that  someone  was  clutching  my 
leg  and  I  kicked  out  violently.  Willie  glanced  down  and 
I  saw  his  face  suddenly  harden.  He  reached  over 
swiftly  and  picked  up  the  heavy  brass  wrench  used 
in  screwing  the  hatch  down.  He  dropped  it.  A 
muffled  groan  was  emitted  below  and  the  hand  let  go 
of  my  leg. 

No.  6  swayed  uneasily  and  as  if  ill-balanced  as  we 
groped  along.  Willie  stared  continuously  into  the  peri 
scope.  "  I  'm  getting  between  them  and  the  setting 
sun,"  he  said.  Later  he  reached  over  and  pulled  the 
lever,  releasing  the  torpedo.  Instead  of  the  upward 
surge  nothing  followed  but  the  hiss  of  slowly  escaping 
air.  The  submergence  dial  showed  that  No.  6  was 
sinking. 

"  Not  pressure  enough,"  Willie  said  wrathfully.  He 
pulled  other  levers  and  I  felt  the  submarine  struggle 
upward  in  obedience  to  her  horizontal  rudders.  But  the 
strain  was  too  great.  The  motors  slowed  down  and 
stopped.  The  lights  grew  dim. 

We  groped  our  way  down  the  steps.  As  we  reached 
the  lower  deck  I  felt  the  body  of  someone  under  my  feet. 
I  stooped  down  and  laid  my  hand  on  the  bare  chest  of 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      115 

the  Jap  who  had  clutched  my  leg.  The  wrench  had  done 
its  work. 

After  a  moment's  fussing  with  the  switches  on  the 
part  of  Willie  the  lights  brightened.  "  We  've  no  use 
for  the  little  current  remaining,"  he  said,  "  except  to 
see  to  work  by.  I  'm  sorry  I  killed  that  fellow  there. 
We  need  him  to  pump." 

"  What 's  the  use  of  pumping  ? "  I  said.  "  We  're 
down  here  to  stay." 

"  There  's  still  that  Russian  up  there,"  he  replied. 
"  And  we  're  not  so  deep  this  time,  although  of  course 
we  're  going  down  all  the  time.  I  reckon  we  can  get  him 
yet.  I  '11  help  you." 

The  pump  levers  gave  reluctantly  to  our  first  pulls. 
The  Jap  gave  a  couple  of  thrusts  to  his  bar  with  his  body 
and  then  rolled  his  eyes  to  his  commander.  I  could  not 
hear  what  he  said.  Willie's  voice  rang  out  wrathfully. 
"  Not  this  time,  my  son !  No  patriots  here !  If  you  so 
much  as  make  a  move  toward  that  switch  I  '11  send  your 
name  to  the  admiral  as  a  mutineer  in  the  face  of  the 
enemy." 

As  the  sailor  sullenly  thrust  his  weight  against  the 
pump  lever  Willie  called  across  to  me,  —  "  These  chaps 
are  all  for  banzais  and  flowers.  They  ain't  scientists. 
But  the  admiral,  he  's  the  lad  for  science.  The  idea  of 
this  blind  patriot  wanting  to  set  that  torpedo  off  in  the 
tube  when  we  don't  know  how  close  the  battle  ship  is! 
Anyway,  we  're  too  deep  down  to  do  any  harm  if  we 
were  right  under  her." 

After  an  infinite  period  of  toil  I  saw  Willie  reach  up 


to  the  oxygen  valve  again.  He  turned  it  on  full.  As 
he  put  his  hand  back  on  the  lever  I  caught  his  smile. 
He  nodded  brightly.  The  cold  blast  struck  down  be 
tween  my  shoulders  and  flowed  over  my  chest.  I  took  a 
deep  breath.  Once  more  I  was  full  of  strength. 

How  our  hearts  beat!  And  at  every  full  pulse  we 
drove  the  bars  over  and  back  with  endless  might.  We 
breathed  fire  and  it  poured  out  to  our  clutching  fingers 
and  into  the  steel  levers.  The  dim  interior  of  the  sub 
marine  grew  brilliant  and  luminous.  The  machinery 
stood  out  in  shining  masses  capable  of  miraculous  activ 
ity.  The  past  and  the  future  faded.  For  that  hour  we 
lived  in  the  gorgeous,  magnificent  Present.  And  all  the 
while  Willie  smiled. 

It  gradually  broke  in  upon  my  rapt  mind  that  the 
Jap  was  singing.  His  muscled  chest  shone  behind  the 
lever  as  he  plunged  to  and  fro  with  extraordinary  agility, 
and  his  song,  throbbing  upward,  rose  and  filled  the 
sounding  shell  of  steel.  I  have  heard  the  strain  else 
where,  on  the  coal  docks  and  in  the  holds  of  merchant 
men  loading  with  cargo.  But  I  shall  always  hear  it  as 
that  sailor  sang  it  over  his  pump  handle  in  that  sodden 
submarine,  as  we  drove  our  glorious  tomb  upward  from 
hell. 

"  Hey-a  ho-a  hum!    Hai-a  hai-a  ho !  "  he  lilted. 

That  tireless  song  in  our  ears,  we  labored  with 
flooding  energy.  Ah,  what  an  hour  that  was !  Death's 
fingers  at  our  throats,  Death's  arms  about  us! 
Death's  cold  waters  burdening  us  down!  And  the 
Jap  sang,  and  we  flung  the  heavy  steel  levers  back 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      117 

and  forth  with  gusto,  with  silent  laughter,  with  full- 
throbbing  hearts.  .  .  . 

The  plates  underneath  our  feet  suddenly  tilted.  The 
long,  luminous  cavern  of  the  hull  soared,  fell  away  like 
a  pencil  from  a  search-light.  There  was  a  rush  of  water 
overhead,  the  thud  of  waves  breaking  on  the  deck.  The 
song  died  away.  We  dropped  the  pump  levers.  Willie 
leaped  to  the  steering  tower,  and  I  heard  the  rasp  of  the 
hatch  as  he  unscrewed  it.  A  breath  of  air  swept  down 
upon  us.  I  saw  the  Jap  crumple  up  like  a  mechanical 
toy  when  the  current  is  turned  off.  My  own  strength 
ebbed  in  a  second.  As  I  squatted  on  the  pump  I  looked 
up.  A  single  star  peeped  down  through  the  open  hatch. 
A  bit  of  flying  spray  stung  my  flesh. 

I  crept  up  the  ladder  one  step  at  a  time.  I  paused  by 
the  steering  wheel  for  breath.  Then  I  slowly  thrust  my 
arms  out  of  the  hatch  and  drew  myself  on  deck. 

It  was  dark  night.  No.  6  lay  high  among  the  shad 
owy  waves  that  reared  themselves  against  the  horizon 
and  swept  under  her  with  gurgling  sounds  like  surf 
among  the  rocks.  Willie,  braced  against  the  little  rail 
ing  that  ran  around  the  top  of  the  tower,  was  staring  out 
silently. 

In  my  weakness  I  felt  that  we  had  reached  the  end, 
indeed.  What  end  ?  I  could  not  tell.  But  as  I  glanced 
up  at  the  figure  above  me  I  saw  the  same  still  smile, 
discerned  it  in  the  gloom  as  though  a  light  shone  on  his 
face.  Then  my  eyes  opened. 

A  hundred  yards  away,  lifting  her  dark  bulk  upward 
above  the  heaving  sea,  lay  the  Russian.  !Not  a  light 


118    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

showed;  not  a  human  sound  drifted  out  to  us.  I  sur 
mised  that  she  had  been  abandoned. 

That  surmise  proved  unfounded.  A  figure  appeared 
at  her  rail  —  a  careless  and  drowsy  figure. 

I  managed  to  get  beside  Willie.  He  put  his  hand  on 
my  arm.  "  Hush !  "  he  whispered.  "  We  '11  get  them 
yet!" 

Before  I  could  seek  an  explanation  a  wave  took  No.  6 
gently  up,  heaved  her  forward  a  hundred  feet,  and 
dropped  her  back  fifty.  I  held  on  and  was  silent.  A 
second  wave  thrust  us  softly  within  a  hundred  feet  of 
the  vast  mass  of  the  battle  ship.  And  as  we  rolled  I 
heard,  at  last,  a  shrill  cry  from  the  deck  of  the  Russian. 

I  was  blinded  by  the  glare  that  enveloped  us  as  if  in 
response  to  that  cry.  Willie  dug  his  fingers  into  my 
arm.  "  Found  us  the  first  thing  with  their  search-light," 
he  muttered.  "  But  they  're  too  late !  " 

A  third  wave  lifted  us  up  in  that  dazzling  blaze, 
poised  us  delicately.  We  slipped  down  its  farther  face. 
The  nose  of  No.  6  stopped  a  bare  dozen  yards  from  the 
enormous  wall  of  steam.  "  Look  up !  "  Willie  cried. 

I  lifted  my  eyes  against  the  gleaming  light.  Sil 
houetted  in  its  cold  brilliancy  we  saw  a  multitude  of 
heads  rising  from  a  huddled  mass  of  surging  forms.  It 
was  the  battle-ship's  crew  gathered  at  the  rail.  Amid 
that  dark  multitude  gold  flashed,  the  sheen  of  steel  and 
the  flicker  of  polished  accouterments  showed  transiently. 

The  huge,  silent,  heaving  concourse  had  but  a  single 
countenance.  It  was  that  of  a  man  in  night-clothes,  one 
bare  leg  thrust  part  way  over  the  rail,  a  chapeau  on  his 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      119 

head,  a  sword  in  his  hand.  Roused  from  sleep,  from 
lethargy,  by  a  cry  of  dread,  the  commander  of  the  im 
mense  ship  stared  down  at  us  with  an  appalled  and 
frightful  look.  His  bearded  lips  moved  in  unspoken, 
useless  commands.  His  sword  waved  in  an  infinitesimal 
arc.  He  comprehended  No.  6  wallowing  in  the  sea; 
understood  her  errand.  His  gaze  flickered  upon  Willie, 
leaning  intently  over  the  slight  rail  of  our  deck.  I  felt 
his  eyes  cross  mine.  Then  he  fixed  his  terrible,  profound 
vision  upon  some  one  else. 

In  that  enduring  pause  I  looked  round  to  see  what 
this  grotesque  figure  viewed  with  such  astounding  terror. 
I  did  not  have  to  seek  far.  Beside  me  stood  the  last  Jap 
of  the  submarine's  crew.  His  bare  legs  straddled  the 
open  hatch  cover.  His  white  chest,  streaked  with  grime, 
shone  boldly  in  the  white  light.  His  bony  face  was 
turned  upward  to  his  enemy.  Behind  his  grinning  lips 
his  teeth  gleamed  in  ferocious  triumph. 

As  these  two,  the  prepared  and  the  unprepared,  met 
each  other's  eyes,  while  the  silent  crowd  on  the  battle 
ship  hung  over  the  rail  and  Willie  and  I  stared  at  them, 
a  final  surge  lifted  No.  6  steadily  up.  For  an  instant 
we  hung,  balanced  on  the  crest.  Then  the  submarine 
slipped  down  the  shining  declivity  toward  her  foe. 

With  a  swift  outstretching  of  his  arm  Willie  encircled 
my  shoulder.  His  voice  rang  in  my  ear.  "  We  made 
it!" 

No.  6  thrust  her  bowl-shaped  nose  downward  into  the 
flanks  of  the  huge  battle  ship.  The  deck  crumpled  under 
my  feet.  I  saw  the  enormous  wall  of  steel  above  us  give 


120    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

inwardly  and  then  expand.  The  search-light  snapped 
out. 

I  found  myself  clinging  to  a  piece  of  grating  in  a  very 
rough  bit  of  water.  The  darkness  was  intense.  An 
acrid  odor  suffused  the  air  which  I  breathed.  Then  I 
was  conscious  of  an  arm  about  my  shoulder.  I  heaved 
myself  round  and  dragged  at  it.  Willie's  voice  sput 
tered  in  my  ear.  "  I  did  n't  know  whether  you  were 
worth  saving  or  not,"  he  said,  spitting  the  water  out  of 
his  mouth. 

"  What  happened  ?  "  I  asked,  gathering  my  thoughts. 
"  Where  's  the  battle  ship  ?  " 

"  We  got  her,"  he  said  quietly.  "  That  torpedo  was 
still  in  the  tube,  you  know." 

I  pondered  this  a  while.  "  I  don't  see  that  we  're  any 
better  off,"  I  said  presently.  "  We  '11  drown." 

"  You  forget  the  admiral,"  he  assured  me.  "  We  're 
part  of  a  scientific  calculation.  We  've  done  our  part. 
And  how  is  he  to  know  whether  his  calculations  were 
correct  unless  we  report  ?  " 

I  refused  such  comfort.  Willie  sat  up  on  the  rocking 
grating.  "  Look  here,"  he  said  brusquely.  "  The  ad 
miral  knows  we  're  here.  He  's  figured  it  all  out." 

I  guess  the  admiral  did  know.  Anyway  we  were 
picked  up  the  next  morning  by  a  small  torpedo  boat 
whose  commander  took  our  presence  on  the  grating  as  a 
matter  of  course,  gave  us  a  hot  drink,  and  immediately 
steamed  back  into  the  Straits  as  if  he  had  come  out  on 
purpose  for  us.  I  went  back  to  my  laboratory  and  my 
bakeries.  In  fact  I  never  wrote  anything  about  the 


WAR    CORRESPONDENT      121 

affair.  Willie  and  I  decided  we  'd  call  it  the  Battle  of 
Moriyoshi,  after  a  big  mountain  we  saw  the  day  we  were 
picked  up.  But  we  did  n't  think  it  was  worth  a  line  in 
the  paper.  And  I  was  n't  really  a  war  correspondent. 
My  line  was  flour. 


THE  BAD  EGG 

"  I  THINK,  sometimes,  that  we  are  prone  to  judge  our 
fellowmen  hastily,"  the  doctor  said.  "  We  pass  sentence 
thus :  He  is  a  fine  citizen.  He  will  never  succeed.  The 
man  has  nothing  in  him.  Smith  is  a  bad  egg.  So  we 
go  through  life,  labeling  our  companions  without  regard 
to  the  purpose  of  God,  or  Providence,  or  Destiny,  as  you 
may  choose  to  term  the  ruling  power.  There  is  work  in 
this  world  that  has  to  be  done ;  rude,  rough,  cruel  work. 
Neither  you  nor  I  —  being  what  we  call  gentlemen  — 
could  do  it.  We  are  n't  up  to  it.  And  when  it  con 
fronts  us  we  stand  aside,  and  the  bad  egg,  the  condemned 
one  of  yesterday,  jostles  us  to  one  side  and  we  see  the 
task  completed.  I  knew  a  man  —  " 

It 's  four  years  ago  that  I  was  appointed  surgeon  of 
the  steamer  Princess  Eugenia,  running  in  the  mail  and 
passenger  service  out  of  British  Columbia  ports  down 
to  the  Colonies.  It  was  a  good  berth.  The  Princess  was 
a  fine  ship,  an  oil-burner,  and  one  of  the  first  trans- 
Pacific  boats  to  use  the  new  fuel  which,  as  you  know,  is 
handled  entirely  by  machinery  and  does  away  with  the 
big  stokehold  crews  of  aforetime.  On  my  first  trip  — 
and  my  last  on  that  steamer  —  we  left  Puget  Sound 
with  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  passengers,  the  royal 


THEBADEGG  123 

mails  and  general  cargo.  A  man  named  Joseph  Mc 
Lean  was  master  and  Edward  Rush  was  chief  engi 
neer.  McLean  was  an  old-timer  on  the  Pacific,  bore  an 
excellent  reputation  with  the  company,  and  was  popular 
with  his  passengers.  His  promotion  to  the  Princess  was 
as  fitting  as  the  choice  of  the  chief  engineer  seemed 
strange.  The  engineer  was  not  a  man  whom  you  would 
pick  out  for  such  a  command,  being  a  silent,  hard,  cruel 
character,  commonly  endowed  by  his  subordinates  and 
shipmates  with  half  the  dull  vices  and  all  the  petty 
meannesses.  I  can't  recall  a  tithe  of  the  stories  I  heard 
of  him.  But  he  had  used  fire-room  crews  so  scandal 
ously  that  twice  he  had  been  in  danger  of  losing  his 
ticket.  There  was  a  dark  rumor  that  he  had  killed  a 
man.  He  had  no  friends.  But  no  one  suggested  that 
he  was  not  a  skillful  and  competent  engineer. 

Physically  he  was  a  chap  of  about  thirty-five  years  of 
age,  well  built,  almost  handsome  in  feature  and  with 
a  very  arrogant  manner.  His  eyes  were  striking  in  their 
expression  of  self-assertion.  He  stared  straight  at  you 
without  winking. 

Among  the  passengers  were  two  young  women.  Mary 
Russell  was  a  pretty,  petulant  girl  accompanied  by  her 
mother,  bound,  I  understood,  on  a  pleasure  trip  that 
Rush  had  proposed.  I  know  we  were  certain  that  the 
chief  engineer  and  Miss  Russell  were  engaged  to  be 
married  and  I,  as  the  ship's  surgeon,  was  told  that  the 
mother's  health  was  not  good.  The  other  girl  was  an 
Edith  Halsey.  She  was  one  of  those  slender,  black- 
haired  girls  you  sometimes  see  to  admire.  Oddly 


124    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

enough  she  was  possessed  of  a  double  beauty,  due  to  the 
great  difference  between  her  full  face  and  her  profile. 
If  you  spoke  to  her  you  found  yourself  looking  into 
steady,  brilliant  dark  eyes ;  her  cheeks  were  n't  full,  but 
gave  one  the  impression  that  she  was  finely  poised.  Her 
mouth  was  clearly  cut,  red-lipped,  and  deeply  indented. 
I  tell  you  she  was  not  only  very  lovely,  but  very  alluring. 

Her  profile  was  that  of  another  woman.  The  piquant 
nose  here  showed  itself  straight  and  slightly  sharp  at 
the  tip.  The  full  eyes  became  appealing,  gentle,  timid. 
The  deeply-curved  mouth  gave  an  expression  of  fragility 
and  suffering  and  faint  sorrow.  Add  to  these  strange 
and  incongruous  perfections  of  face  a  fine  form,  a  tune 
ful  voice  and  the  walk  of  a  healthy  woman.  That 's  as 
much  as  I  can  tell  you  about  Edith  Halsey,  except  that 
she  was  educated  and  refined.  With  her  on  the  Prin 
cess  Eugenia  was  her  father,  a  well-to-do,  somewhat 
stupid  old  chap  of  eight-and-fifty.  He  dozed  all  morn 
ing  till  time  to  get  up  the  Calcutta  sweep,  took  a  tem 
perate  interest  in  this  and  then  relapsed  into  a  game  of 
whist  with  three  cronies. 

So  you  have  us  for  the  first  few  days :  Edith  Halsey 
walking  through  our  little  society  gracefully  pleasant  to 
us  all ;  McLean  stiff  and  straight  on  the  bridge ;  Rush 
silently  vanishing  to  his  engines  or  almost  as  silently 
standing  beside  Mary  Russell's  chair,  now  and  then 
stooping  over  her  to  adjust  a  rug  or  pick  up  a  book  that 
had  slipped  to  the  deck ;  and  myself,  the  doctor,  watch 
ing  them  all  with  a  paternal  eye.  Even  now  I  like  to 
recall  that  scene  because  of  its  peace  and  friendliness; 


THEBADEGG  125 

because  Rush's  arrogance  was  lost  for  a  little  in  his  de 
votion  to  the  pretty,  spoiled  girl;  because  McLean  was 
peacefully  enjoying  his  new  command;  most  of  all,  it 
is  possible,  because  I  see  once  more  Edith  Halsey's  won 
derful  face  and  catch  her  quick,  warm  smile. 

We  arrived  in  Honolulu  and  passed  on  again  for  the 
South.  There  came  no  change  into  our  daily  life.  We 
reached  latitude  six  north  of  the  line  before  a  strange 
thing  happened. 

At  two  o'clock  one  night  I  woke  up  choking  over 
fumes  of  what  I  took  to  be  furnace  gas.  I  got  out  of 
my  berth,  opened  the  lattice  widely  and  was  face  to  face 
with  a  grimy  stoker.  "  You  're  needed  below,  Doctor," 
he  said  unceremoniously.  "  We  're  main  sick  in  the 
fire-room." 

I  paid  little  attention  to  my  own  inconvenience, 
thinking  that  a  whiff  from  the  funnels  had,  by  a  breath 
of  wind,  been  diverted  into  my  room.  We  were  all  sus 
picious  of  the  oil-burners,  anyway,  they  being  a  novel 
affair.  I  hurried  down  into  the  engine-room  and  found 
Rush  at  the  fire-room  door. 

"  It 's  a  funny  thing,"  he  told  me.  "  Six  of  the  men 
are  on  their  backs.  Of  course,  it 's  hot  down  here,  but 
the  boys  have  the  draught  and  I  don't  understand  this 
sudden  sickness.  One  of  them  is  dead.  Be  careful  it 
is  n't  mere  funk  on  the  others'  part."  He  stared  at  me 
with  a  peculiarly  grim  expression  of  determination  as 
I  nodded  and  passed  in. 

The  roar  of  the  furnaces  took  hold  on  my  ears  as  I 
paused  in  the  boiling  heat  that  poured  around  me  in  that 


126    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

stokehold.  Flame  spit  out  at  me  from  the  peepholes  in 
the  doors,  and  a  curl  of  dark,  bituminous  smoke  shot  like 
water  from  a  hose  across  my  passage.  Here  and  there 
the  glow  of  the  bellowing  fires,  fed  with  steam  and  oil, 
ruddied  the  sooty  beams  and  bulkheads.  Overhead  the 
gauges  throbbed  and  hissed.  I  was  almost  afraid  to 
move,  but  a  voice  called  me  and  I  went  over  to  where  a 
man  knelt  under  a  pounding  pump. 

I  stooped  over  beside  him  and  looked  down  into  the 
dark,  swollen  face  of  a  man  dead  from  heart-stoppage. 
This  is  nothing  unusual  in  the  tropics,  particularly  in 
coal-burners,  yet  I  remember  wondering  at  the  sudden, 
rigid  tenseness  of  the  man's  wide  nostrils.  Then,  my 
inspection  finished,  I  got  up  and  went  forward  under 
the  cool  tanks  where  five  other  men  lay  gasping.  At 
sight  of  them  I  knew  my  work  was  laid  out  for  me  and 
I  ordered  them  carried  up  on  the  after-deck.  When 
they  were  stretched  out  there,  over  the  drumming  screws, 
they  gaped  miserably  up  at  me,  their  flesh  quivering 
under  the  glare  of  the  electrics.  I  did  what  I  could,  but 
they  died. 

As  I  've  said,  it  is  nothing  out  of  the  way  for  one  or 
two  men  in  the  fire-room  to  develop  bad  hearts  and  die 
in  the  heat.  But  six  men  lay  under  the  tarpaulin  on 
that  deck,  and  from  all  over  the  ship  came  calls  for  the 
doctor.  Stewards  pulling  their  white  jackets  over  their 
shoulders  hailed  me  as  I  passed,  and  I  myself  could  hear 
a  general  complaint,  the  sound  of  people  stumbling  to 
open  ports,  the  low  moaning  of  the  unawakened.  Then 
a  certain  silent,  intangible,  invisible  something  clotted 


THEBADEGG  127 

in  the  air,  so  to  speak,  and  while  I  hurried  hither  and 
yon  with  boys  at  my  heels  carrying  soda  water  and  ice, 
Captain  McLean  sent  for  me  to  come  to  him  on  the 
bridge.  I  went  without  jacket  or  cap. 

On  the  bridge  the  skipper  met  me  with  expressions 
of  perturbation.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  demanded 
in  a  harsh  voice. 

"  Heat  and  probably  carbon  monoxide  from  the  fur 
naces,"  I  replied. 

"  And  —  and  they  are  sick  \  "  he  inquired,  with  an 
odd  gesture  of  dismay. 

"  They  are  dead  —  six  of  the  firemen,"  I  told  him. 
"  The  passengers  are  ill,  some  of  them.  There  must  be 
leakage  of  gas  from  the  oil-burners." 

While  I  spoke  I  observed  that  he  stared  up  into  the 
dark,  starry  sky,  his  face  depicting  bewilderment  and 
dim  horror.  He  shivered  when  I  finished  and  said  in  a 
constrained  voice,  "  It 's  up  there !  "  and  tossed  his  open 
palm  heavenward. 

You  will  understand  that  the  Princess  Eugenia  was 
traveling  quietly  along  over  a  calm  sea  and  that  we  had 
had  no  premonition  of  trouble.  The  air  was  heavy  and 
lifeless,  to  be  sure;  the  sky  seemed  profound  and  unlit 
by  the  many  stars;  yet  all  this  amounted  to  nothing. 
And  all  over  the  ship,  I  tell  you,  was  a  sense  of  uneasi 
ness,  of  discomfort,  of  increasing  pain,  of  positive  hor 
ror  ;  nothing  that  one  could  lay  hands  on,  yet  a  distinct 
and  universal  feeling  of  evil  And  six  men  were  dead. 
And  our  captain  was  staring  upward  and  reading  in  the 
dark  heavens  only  this  amazing  legend :  "  It  is  here !  " 


What  was  up  there  ?  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  that  was 
the  horror  of  it:  We  didn't  know;  didn't  know,  in 
truth,  whether  there  was  anything  "  up  there  " ;  whether 
our  skipper  was  mad;  whether  an  invisible  and  awful 
death  hovered  over  us  in  the  deep  vault  of  the  firma 
ment.  All  that  was  certain  to  me  was  that  the  ship  was 
awake  at  three  in  the  morning,  and  that  six  men  had 
turned  their  swollen  faces  to  eternity  under  some  mys 
terious  and  mortal  impulse.  I  left  the  bridge  and  went 
back  to  my  duties. 

Day  came,  as  it  dawns  in  those  waters,  with  brilliance 
and  splendor.  We  hastily  buried  the  dead,  while  the 
stewards  clattered  the  early-breakfast  dishes  in  the 
saloon.  And  when  the  last  man  was  over  the  side  the 
chief  engineer  asserted  to  the  captain  —  who  still  held 
the  prayer-book  open  with  his  thumb  —  that  he  would 
have  to  work  his  men  double  watches  to  keep  steam  up. 
"  If  something  is  wrong  with  those  oil-burners,"  he 
growled  angrily,  "  I  '11  find  out  what  it  is." 

But  McLean  laid  his  lean  hand  on  Rush's  sleeve  and 
repeated,  with  great  emphasis,  looking  upward :  "  It 's 
not  your  furnaces ;  it 's  up  there !  " 

Rush  looked  inquiringly  at  me,  but  I  refused  to  diag 
nosticate  the  captain's  mental  state,  even  by  a  glance. 
In  turning  my  eyes  away  I  caught  sight  of  the  first 
officer's  face.  It  changed  in  a  flash  from  an  expression 
of  steady  vigilance  to  one  of  extreme  misery,  pain  and 
terror.  He  breathed  sharply,  with  a  wheezing  inspira 
tion.  Then  the  dull  purple  of  quick  suffocation  rose  to 
his  temples  and  I  ran  for  him.  I  caught  him  as  he  fell. 


THEBADEGG  129 

As  my  arms  went  around  him  there  entered  my  nostrils 
a  faint  whiff  of  an  indescribable  odor,  —  an  odor  of  in 
finite  smoldering  fire  and  smoke  and  combustion  of 
poisonous  materials.  To  my  fancy  it  seemed  that  a 
small  spiral  of  a  horrible,  noxious  gas  had  been  wafted 
across  my  face ;  the  pain  in  my  throat  struck  clear  down 
into  my  vitals.  I  heard  the  captain  muttering :  "  Yes, 
it 's  up  there !  "  We  got  the  mate  below  and  revived 
him.  An  hour  later  he  was  on  the  bridge,  a  little  shaky, 
but  composed  and  vigilant.  The  second  engineer,  how 
ever,  was  dead.  He  had  gone  to  take  a  look  at  the  con 
denser  ;  there  he  had  been  stricken  down  mysteriously. 

At  the  end  of  the  next  twenty-four  hours  the  Princess 
Eugenia  was  steaming  slowly  over  the  sea  with  barely 
enough  pressure  in  her  boilers  to  give  her  steerage-way. 
The  fire-room  was  empty,  the  stokers  and  water  tenders 
huddled  on  the  after-deck  in  sullen  mutiny.  Of  the 
engineers  Rush  alone  was  left,  and  two  of  the  passengers 
had  been  choked  by  this  incredible  death.  We  knew  at 
last  what  it  was.  ISTot  gas  from  the  furnaces,  but  gas 
from  above. 

Floating  on  the  lower  air  lay  a  great  pool  of  poisonous 
vapor,  jetted  up,  I  suppose,  from  a  submarine  volcano. 
In  the  still,  windless  atmosphere  it  hung  in  an  invisible 
and  fatal  cloud,  eddying  hither  and  thither  to  the  slight 
impulse  of  the  sluggish  rollers  below  it.  And  whenever 
a  tiny  stream  of  that  mortal  fluid  came  down  upon  our 
ship  some  one  strangled,  stared  up  —  and  died. 

The  horror  of  it  was  that  this  great  sea  of  poison  was 
settling  down.  Hour  by  hour  it  lowered  upon  us.  Gulls 


soaring  upward  in  the  swift  arc  of  their  flight  wrould 
stop,  flutter  and  drop  like  stones  to  the  water.  Then 
there  were  no  more  gulls.  Occasionally  we  passed  a 
whole  school  of  flying  fish,  lying  on  a  wave  like  a  hand 
ful  of  torn  paper. 

What  were  we  to  do  ?  was  the  question. 

Apart  from  the  passengers,  now  thoroughly  scared, 
Captain  McLean,  the  mate  and  I  continually  discussed 
this,  throwing  uneasy  glances  to  the  cloudless  sky.  The 
skipper  was  for  keeping  on;  the  chief  officer  advocated 
turning  from  our  long  course  southward  to  hasten  out  of 
such  waters  into  the  north.  "  We  're  running  deeper 
and  deeper  into  this,"  he  would  say,  with  a  shake  of  his 
head.  "  We  '11  run  square  into  the  main  body  of  it  soon, 
and  inside  of  ten  minutes  no  one  will  be  left  alive." 

"  We  can't  —  no  one  can  say  as  to  that,"  McLean 
would  contend,  wringing  his  fingers.  "  There  's  always 
the  risk  of  doing  worse.  We  're  on  our  course  now. 
It 's  all  in  the  dark,  at  best.  I  could  n't  explain  to  the 
company.  Let 's  steam  on  toward  our  port  and  trust 
to  God." 

"  But  the  engines  are  almost  out  of  commission,"  we 
would  both  urge  on  him.  "  Nobody  is  left  on  watch 
below  but  Rush.  The  steam  is  going  down  hour  by  hour. 
The  stokers  are  openly  mutinous,  and  no  one  seems  to 
see  any  way  of  setting  them  to  work  again.  The  pro 
pellers  are  barely  turning.  How  shall  we  keep  the  fires 
going  ? " 

In  the  end  the  captain  sent  for  Rush.  He  came, 
grimy,  white-lipped,  clad  in  greasy  overalls  and  a  sooty 


THEBADEGG  131 

undershirt.  I  see  him  yet  coming  up  the  clean  deck, 
stepping  among  the  silent  passengers,  a  quiet,  arrogant 
figure  of  a  man,  and  as  he  passed  in  his  dirt  and  un- 
cleanness  they  groaned.  When  he  had  mounted  to  the 
bridge  McLean  looked  steadily  at  him  and  said :  "  Mr. 
Kush,  I  have  been  taking  advice.  I  may  state  that  I 
am  firmly  convinced  that  we  should  keep  on  our  course. 
This  phenomenon  may  cease  at  any  time.  But  I  under 
stand  that  your  department  is  crippled,  that  you  can't 
keep  your  men  at  work." 

Rush  nodded  in  his  insolent  way.  "  There  's  only 
myself  left  to  stand  a  watch,"  he  told  us.  "  My  fire- 
room  crew  is  gone  by  half  and  the  other  half  is  sucking 
thumbs  on  the  after-deck.  Give  me  authority  and  I  '11 
keep  the  engines  going,  captain." 

"  Alone  ?  "  McLean  demanded.  "  What  authority  do 
you  need  more  than  you  've  got  ?  " 

"  Alone,"  Rush  replied,  gazing  at  us  all.  "  As  for 
authority,  I  want  you  to  back  me  up  when  I  take  my 
men  below.  I  've  suggested  a  couple  of  times  that  I 
would  take  them  down  and  put  them  to  work,  but  each 
time  you  've  been  afraid  for  the  passengers.  The  pas 
sengers  are  none  of  my  business.  If  you  want  the  en 
gines  kept  going,  I  '11  look  out  for  my  crew." 

McLean  was  horribly  disturbed.  "  You  have  a  hard 
name,  Mr.  Rush,"  he  said  finally.  "  I  might  find  it 
hard  to  explain  when  I  get  ashore  that  I  'd  allowed  you 
to  —  to  —  " 

Rush  took  him  up  boldly.  "  Do  some  killing  ?  "  he 
remarked.  "  Is  that  what  you  're  afraid  of  ?  If  you 


132    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

want  your  engines  started  full  speed  again,  please  allow 
me  to  manage  my  department." 

"  But  the  passengers !  "  McLean  said.  "  Think 
what  they  will  say!  And  it  is  death  to  stay  in  your 
fire-room." 

"  I  stay  there,"  he  retorted,  smiling  coldly.  "  And  as 
for  the  passengers  —  you  are  in  command,  sir.  I  have 
said  that  I  would  keep  the  engines  going  and  I  will,  so 
long  as  a  man  's  left  alive.  But  unless  you  give  me  a 
free  hand  I  can't  do  anything." 

I  suppose  the  skipper  pondered  the  question  —  with 
occasional  distrustful  glances  at  his  chief  engineer  — 
for  a  half-hour.  Then  he  shook  his  head.  "  Enough 
men  have  died  already,"  he  announced.  "  I  can't 
authorize  you  to  use  strong  measures,  Mr.  Rush." 

Rush's  smile  was  an  inclusive  one,  condemning  us  of 
faint-heartedness,  of  inefficiency,  of  incompetency.  He 
turned  away  and  went  back,  down  the  white  deck  among 
the  silent  passengers  and  into  the  dark  hole  that  marked 
the  entrance  to  his  engine-room.  I  was  following  him 
and  I  saw  two  women  glance  after  him.  One  was  Mary 
Russell.  Her  pretty,  petulant  face  was  pinched  and 
drawn.  She  seemed  almost  afraid  of  Rush,  so  distinct 
was  her  shrinking  as  he  passed  by.  But  Edith  Halsey 
did  n't  shrink.  She  gazed  after  him  with  a  thoughtful, 
brilliant  expression  of  admiration. 

For  some  hours  that  day  the  death  hovering  above  us 
didn't  descend.  During  that  time  we  kept  our  eyes 
ceaselessly  on  the  splendid  and  deadly  sky  till  immunity 
gave  us  courage  and  we  smiled.  Old  Halsey  even  tim- 


THEBADEGG  133 

idly  suggested  that  we  make  our  usual  sweep  on  the  day's 
run.  "  It 's  so  small  that  it  will  give  us  a  wide  range 
for  betting,"  he  told  us.  But  we  discouraged  him  by 
lack  of  enthusiasm.  Yet  the  daily  life  was  resumed 
sufficiently  on  deck  to  make  it  apparent  that  a  great 
change  had  come  over  Mary  Russell  and  Edith  Halsey. 
Mary  was  permanently  disenchanted  with  the  sea.  Its 
cruelty,  its  sternness  frightened  her.  She  hated  it. 
And  in  that  weak,  peevish  hatred  she  came  to  include, 
as  I  saw,  the  man  whose  influence  had  led  her  to  em 
bark  on  this  voyage.  She  did  n't  conceal  her  aversion, 
and  when  he  snatched  a  moment  from  his  duties  below 
to  come  up  and  call  to  her  from  the  engine-room  door 
way  she  pettishly  turned  her  head  and  refused  to  notice 
him. 

On  the  other  hand  Edith  Halsey  suddenly  became 
thoughtful,  no  longer  tripping  around  among  us  with 
her  smile  and  her  low-toned  voice.  She  sat  in  her 
steamer  chair  near  the  engine-room  door,  her  chin  in 
her  hands,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  horizon.  Now  and 
then  she  listened,  with  an  imperceptible  tilt  of  her 
head,  to  the  sounds  of  steel  on  steel  in  the  bowels  of 
the  ship.  Where  others  cast  their  sick  eyes  upward  she 
was  serene  and  undisturbed  —  only  thoughtful. 

Here  Edward  Rush  astonished  us.  Remember  that 
the  poisoned  air  still  floated  overhead;  that  people  still 
choked  when  a  bit  of  its  fume  trickled  down;  that 
McLean  was  openly  in  doubt;  that  the  mutineers  of 
the  fire-room  crew  still  idly  sat  on  the  after-deck,  re 
fusing  duty.  And  in  all  this  wordless  confusion  the 


134    ACJROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

engineer  came  out  among  us  and  paid  court  to  Edith 
Halsey.  One  would  have  thought  shame  would  have 
restrained  him.  The  least  of  us  was  horrified  that  he 
passed  Mary  Russell  calmly  by  and  sat  —  dirty  clothes 
and  all  —  insolently  by  the  side  of  the  loveliest  woman 
of  them  all.  But  he  did  this.  He  lounged  in  a  chair, 
cast  his  cold  and  arrogant  eyes  over  us  and  talked  to 
Edith  as  if  no  one  else  breathed.  You  could  n't  mistake 
his  manner.  His  fancy  had  been  caught  by  her  poise 
and  her  serenity.  He  courted  her  openly,  turning  his 
sooty  face  to  her  fair  one  with  an  incredible  assurance, 
as  though  he  met  her  on  even  ground,  had  a  claim  on 
her,  knew  that  she  liked  his  company.  Even  McLean 
was  wrathful.  We  recalled  old  tales  about  our  chief 
engineer.  Many  of  us  pitied  Mary  Russell  and  took 
pains  to  show  her  that  we  disapproved  of  Rush's  change 
of  allegiance.  All  to  no  effect.  He  quietly  scorned  us, 
and  the  engines  turned  more  and  more  slowly  till,  at 
last,  they  stopped.  The  Princess  Eugenia  floated  on 
the  still  sea,  turning  her  blind  bow  first  to  one  quar 
ter  and  then  to  another.  The  last  of  the  engine-room 
crew  came  on  deck.  Rush  sat  and  talked  to  Edith 
Halsey. 

And  that  night  death  struck  down  among  us  again. 
A  man  and  a  woman  died  in  their  staterooms.  The 
dawn  found  us  all  peering  helplessly  into  the  clear, 
tainted  sky  —  every  man  but  Edward  Rush,  who  sat 
beside  Edith  Halsey  and  talked,  with  cold  eyes  watch 
ing  us  and  unmoved  face  upon  the  blank  sea.  What 
was  he  saying?  I  don't  know.  But  the  girl's  brows 


THE    BAD    EGG  135 

were  contracted  as  if  she  were  slightly  puzzled.  ISTow 
and  again  she  threw  him  a  swift  glance.  But  she 
didn't  move.  She  accepted  his  society. 

When  it  Avas  daylight  and  McLean  knew  exactly 
what  had  happened  —  and  might  happen  again  —  he 
looked  us  all  over  from  the  height  of  the  bridge  with 
a  set  and  austere  gaze  in  which  one  read  a  growing 
determination.  I  went  up  and  reported  to  him  and 
he  whispered  in  hoarse,  reedy  voice :  "  Doctor,  your 
skill  is  of  no  avail.  I  think  —  "  He  paused. 

I  remember  interrogating  him  by  a  look  and  he 
answered  me :  "  We  must  get  the  ship  on  her  way. 
The  engines  are  stopped.  If  we  get  them  to  going 
again  —  " 

It  did  n't  take  much  to  read  his  mind.  I  went  and 
called  the  chief  engineer.  He  followed  me  and  con 
fronted  the  skipper  on  the  bridge.  McLean  hesitated 
and  then  said:  "Can  you  get  the  engines  going 
again  ? " 

Rush  smiled  at  him.  "I  told  you  I  would  put  the 
crew  to  work  if  you  gave  me  authority.  You  seemed 
to  think  it  might  interfere  with  the  comfort  of  the 
passengers  if  I  —  if  I  urged  them  too  harshly." 

"But  you  have  abandoned  your  post !  "  McLean  burst 
out. 

Rush's  face  did  n't  change.  "  I  quit  when  there  was 
no  more  need  of  me,"  he  replied.  "Why  should  I  go 
down  there  and  die  —  uselessly  ?  " 

McLean  weakly  grasped  at  a  straw  of  his  authority. 
"  Do  you  refuse  duty  ?  " 


136    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  I  tell  you .  I  '11  get  the  machines  to  working  inside 
of  an  hour  if  you  will  give  me  my  men,"  he  answered 
boldly.  "  I  Ve  got  only  six  men  left.  But  that 's 
enough." 

For  a  moment  McLean  seemed  to  be  figuring  on  what 
would  happen.  But  the  shrewd,  insolent  expression 
of  Rush's  face  settled  his  determination.  He  waved 
us  from  the  bridge.  "  Turn  your  crew  to,"  he  said 
abruptly.  "  Start  the  engines  again."  An  instant  later 
he  ordered  me  to  accompany  Rush  and  help  him. 

The  passengers  surmised  from  the  colloquy  on  the 
bridge  that  matters  had  taken  a  new  turn,  for  some 
of  them  followed  us  aft  —  at  a  discreet  distance  — 
and  a  buzz  of  conversation  rose.  To  this  Rush  paid 
no  attention.  He  strode  directly  down  the  deck,  past 
the  long  rows  of  staterooms  and  to  the  after-deck.  Once 
there  he  called  out  to  the  group  of  firemen  lounging 
under  the  awning :  "  Look  lively,  men !  Get  down  and 
to  your  work !  " 

They  instinctively  stirred  at  his  sharp  command. 
One  or  two  of  them  even  prepared  to  obey.  But  the 
others  growled  a  coarse  refusal.  The  volunteers  slunk 
back.  Then  Rush  showed  himself  in  his  real  nature. 

I  was  standing  by  him  while  his  cold  eyes  traveled 
from  one  man  to  another.  I  caught  something  of  the 
profound  menace  of  his  quiet  manner,  but  I  also  saw 
something  that  I  did  n't  understand  for  the  moment : 
a  kind  of  careful  appraisal  of  the  sullen  firemen,  as 
if  he  were  measuring  them  up  to  some  standard  — 
possibly,  I  surmised,  against  his  own  sheer  ability  to 


THEBADEGG  137 

handle  them.  For  the  moment  I  thought  he  was  afraid 
of  them.  I  was  mistaken.  His  survey  finished,  he 
nodded  his  head  and  repeated  his  orders  for  them  to 
go  back  to  their  duty,  this  time  in  a  tone  that  brought 
them  to  their  feet.  Still  they  hung  back,  cowed  by 
the  fear  of  that  death  that  so  frequently  struck  into 
their  midst,  stimulated  by  the  dull  sense  of  their  own 
power  of  numbers.  Rush  stared  at  them  a  brief  moment 
and  then  remarked  to  me,  over  his  shoulder :  "  These 
brutes  are  getting  out  of  hand.  And  I  can  spare  only 
one  of  them." 

That  last  phrase  was  emphasized  and  the  men  looked 
darkly  at  him,  wrinkling  their  brows  in  the  effort  to 
make  out  what  he  meant.  The  chief  engineer  repeated 
it:  "  I  can't  spare  more  than  one."  His  voice  shot  out 
sharply :  "Get  forward,  you  men,  and  get  to  work !  " 

One  of  them  lurched  out  from  the  group  and  said: 
"  We  ain't  goin'  to  work.  It 's  sure  death  down  there." 

"  It 's  sure  death  here,  too,"  Rush  replied  calmly. 
"  Which  will  you  take  ?  A  chance  in  the  fire-room,  or 
no  chance  at  all  here  ? " 

The  fellow's  slow  wits  did  n't  catch  the  menace.  "  I 
guess  we  '11  try  it  a  while  here,"  he  laughed. 

I  saw  the  hot  color  slowly  flood  Rush's  forehead.  "  I 
did  n't  mean  that  you  should  mistake  me,"  he  said. 
"  Will  you  go  to  work,  or  will  you  die  here  —  now  ?  " 

"  I  guess  we  '11  stop  right  here,"  the  man  replied, 
settling  back  against  a  water  cask. 

With  the  precision  and  certainty  of  a  machine  Rush 
pulled  his  revolver  out  of  his  pocket,  shot  the  staring 


138    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

man  through  the  heart,  and  said  again :  "  You  men 
get  forward  and  below  to  your  work.  Lively  now !  " 

Those  poor  firemen  gazed  into  his  arrogant,  cruel  face 
and  shrank  from  him.  They  started  forward  all  to 
gether  and  fell  back,  shufflingly,  only  to  feel  the  keen 
imperious  command  in  his  eyes  and  once  more  surged 
along  the  deck  toward  their  station.  As  they  passed 
us  Rush  swung  round  and  followed  them  with  his  eyes. 
As  the  last  man  broke  into  a  ragged  trot  he  stepped 
out,  meeting  Captain  McLean's  blanched  face.  "  I  'm 
sorry  you  shot  him,"  McLean  stammered.  "  I  think  —  " 

Rush  smiled  harshly.  "  I  could  spare  one  man,"  he 
said.  "  That  fellow  was  no  good,  anyway."  He  passed 
on,  through  the  huddled  passengers,  past  Mary  Russell 
and  her  averted  face,  holding  his  head  high,  his  steady 
stare  boldly  confronting  them  all  till  it  met  the  gaze  of 
Edith  Halsey.  To  her  he  vouchsafed  a  word :  "  We  '11 
soon  be  on  our  road  again.  Never  fear !  "  With  this 
he  vanished  after  his  men  into  the  engine-room. 

It  was  over  an  hour  before  the  Princess  Eugenia 
was  again  under  way,  and  in  that  period  there  were 
several  cases  of  choking,  none  fatal.  Then  the  steamer 
headed  to  her  course  and  a  faint  breeze  fanned  us  into 
hopefulness.  Yet  with  the  darkness  came  another  catas 
trophe  that  nearly  ended  our  voyage.  Our  first  warning 
was  the  sudden  outrush  of  firemen,  yelling  in  terror.  It 
appeared  that  some  wandering  breath  of  the  poisonous 
vapor  had  stolen  down  among  them  and  while  no  one 
was  dead  from  it,  all  had  been  half-strangled.  You 
could  tell  at  a  glance  that  this  time  it  would  take  more 


THEBADEGG  139 

than  a  show  of  revolvers  to  return  them  to  their  duty. 
Fear,  plain  and  stark,  held  them  in  its  frozen  grasp. 
McLean  eame  down  and  tried  to  argue  with  them,  the 
chief  officer  at  his  elbow.  They  answered  his  words 
with  gapings  and  shudders,  speechless,  nerveless,  almost 
mad  with  terror.  Rush's  advent  moved  them  not  a  jot. 
True,  he  said  nothing,  but  merely  held  up  a  lantern 
and  looked  them  over  as  if  they  were  sheep.  McLean 
fussed  across  to  him  and  said  flightily :  "  What  is  to 
be  done,  Mr.  Rush  ?  What  can  we  do  ?  " 

"  Get  them  back  to  work,"  was  the  answer. 

"  But  they  won't ;    they  are  afraid,"  McLean  said. 

"  I  '11  make  them  work,"  was  the  confident  reply,  but 
the  skipper  seemed  more  put  out  than  ever  by  this.  "  I 
forbid  you  to  touch  them,  Mr.  Rush,"  he  stormed. 
"  There  has  been  death  enough  on  this  ship  and,  please 
God,  we  '11  go  about  things  differently  now.  Don't 
touch  them !  " 

For  the  first  time  Rush  lost  his  temper.  "  How  do 
you  expect  me  to  keep  my  engines  going  ? "  he  said 
hotly.  "  Is  there  nobody  on  this  ship  capable  of  taking 
command  ? " 

"  Mr.  Rush !  Mr.  Rush !  your  words  require  an  ex 
planation,"  mumbled  the  honest  old  captain. 

The  chief  engineer's  snarl  was  n't  a  pretty  thing  to 
see.  Watching  his  livid  lips,  his  steely  eyes,  his  cruel 
mouth,  it  came  over  me  that,  after  all,  Rush  was  the 
solitary  man  left  among  us  of  capacity  to  deal  with  the 
situation.  Even  the  terror-stricken  firemen  shrank  from 
his  wicked  glare,  muttering  to  themselves  that  no  one 


140    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

could  be  expected  to  work  when  it  was  sure  death. 
Their  hoarse  protests  made  no  impression  on  Rush. 
He  seemed  to  have  lost  all  thought  that  he  stood  alone. 
He  gritted  his  teeth,  clenched  his  fists,  stood  tensely 
ready  to  spring  upon  them.  McLean  was  prodigiously 
perplexed.  In  all  his  life  he  had  never  confronted  such 
a  situation,  and  between  the  mysterious  death  above 
and  the  fear  below  he  stood  lost,  like  a  man  bereft  of 
all  sense  of  direction,  saying  empty  warnings  meant 
to  assuage  the  wrath  of  his  chief  engineer  and  the 
terror  of  his  crew,  and  to  maintain  his  own  dignity. 
In  the  very  midst  of  his  ramblings  Rush  swung  on  his 
heel,  left  the  circle  and  strode  off  into  the  darkness. 

He  went  down  the  engine-room  steps,  I  at  his  heels. 
Once  on  the  working  platform  he  called  the  solitary 
man  still  at  his  post  and  told  him  to  go  into  the  fire- 
room  and  do  his  best.  "  Keep  the  pumps  going  and 
I  '11  help  you,"  he  ordered.  "  We  must  n't  let  the  steam 
go  down  again." 

The  oiler  nodded,  went  slowly  away  and  came  back. 
But  Rush's  stare  seemed  to  freeze  what  he  intended  to 
say  on  his  lips  and  he  went  off  and  into  the  fire-room. 
Then  Rush  turned  to  me.  "  I  know  you  're  needed  on 
deck,  Doctor,"  he  said.  "  But  everybody  's  crazy  up 
there.  If  you  '11  stay  with  me  to-night  down  here,  I  '11 
try  to  keep  the  engines  turning.  I  '11  show  you  how 
to  fire  under  an  oil-burner." 

My  place  was  on  deck  with  the  passengers,  of  course. 
I  can't  explain  why  I  stayed  below.  Possibly  it  was 
the  dogged  will  of  the  man,  the  imperious  heart  of  him 


THEBADEGG  141 

demanding  and  getting  help.  I  followed  him  into  the 
stokehold. 

The  fire-room  of  an  oil-burner  is  a  roaring,  spitting, 
red-hot  furnace.  Where  coal  is  burned  one  hears  only 
the  suck  of  the  drafts,  the  slash  of  the  heavy  bars,  the 
slurring  of  the  coals,  the  clang  of  furnace  doors,  all 
against  the  deep  diapason  of  the  steam.  But  in  the 
bowels  of  the  Princess  it  was  a  continuous  and  horrible 
blast,  as  if  one  stood  in  the  very  throat  of  an  incredible 
gale  blowing  out  of  hell.  The  lurid  glow  was  shot  here 
and  there  by  jets  of  black  smoke  from  the  vents,  by 
spurts  of  hot  carbon  that  reduced  to  ashes  one's  clothes 
wherever  it  struck.  Again,  under  the  impulse  of  the 
hot  steam  that  sent  the  heavy  oil  over  the  grates  in  a 
vast  spray,  sharp  detonations  of  flame  and  gas  would 
fill  the  whole  resounding  fire-room  with  blinding  heat, 
driving  us  huddlewise  into  corners  with  our  hands  over 
our  eyes.  Into  this  inferno  Rush  took  me,  invested  me 
with  some  man's  cast-off  garments,  showed  me  the 
gauges,  pointed  out  to  me  the  pumps  that  must  be 
regulated.  My  sole  companion,  the  oiler,  he  charged 
with  instructing  me  in  my  duties. 

I  imagine  it  must  have  been  the  excitement  of  it, 
but  we  kept  the  steam  up  by  awful  exertions.  We  tore 
back  and  forth  like  bedlamites,  twisting  great  valves, 
swinging  on  the  big  chains  that  raised  and  lowered  the 
dampers,  watching  the  jumping  needles  that  proclaimed 
a  temporary  victory  or  imminent  defeat.  Suddenly  — 
how,  I  can't  explain  —  we  caught  the  trick  of  it.  The 
pumps  worked  smoothly.  The  great  fountains  of  oil 


played  steadily  into  the  fires.  The  steam  pressure  rose 
pound  by  pound.  The  throbs  of  the  propellers  in 
creased,  the  deck  under  our  feet  shook  to  the  vibrations 
of  the  heavy  engines.  I  and  the  oiler  wiped  the  sweat 
from  our  eyes  and  grinned  vacuously  at  each  other,  like 
a  pair  of  idiots. 

Hush  appeared,  his  cold  face  lit  with  approval.  "  It 's 
daylight,  Doctor,"  he  told  me.  "  You  've  done  famously. 
But  you  can't  keep  it  up.  Please  go  and  see  Captain 
McLean  and  tell  him  to  send  my  men  down  here. 
Tell  him  if  they  don't  come  I  '11  come  up  and  get 
them." 

Instantly  I  felt  my  strength  leave  me.  I  was  com 
pletely  exhausted.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  scramble 
out  of  the  fire-room  into  the  cool  engine-hold,  almost 
too  much  for  me  to  make  my  painful  way  to  the  deck. 
Once  there  I  stared  round  like  a  dazed  man  till  the 
skipper,  catching  sight  of  me,  rushed  down  and  cried: 
"  Where  have  you  been  ?  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  've  been  in  the  fire-room,"  I  told  him  with  some 
pride.  "  We  've  kept  the  steam  up.  Mr.  Rush  says  for 
you  to  send  him  down  his  men." 

McLean  was  very  angry.  My  place  was  on  deck 
with  the  passengers,  he  said.  What  business  had  I 
in  the  engine-room  ?  He  would  speak  to  the  chief  engi 
neer  about  it  ...  preposterous  .  .  .  Was  n't  a  man 
to  command  his  own  ship  ?  .  .  .  The  engineer  seemed 
to  think  .  .  . 

"  But  the  men  ?  "  I  reminded  him.  "  The  steam  will 
go  down." 


THEBADEGG  143 

"  I  won't  send  the  men  back  there,"  he  said  with  sud 
den  decisiveness. 

"  But  the  engines  will  stop,"  I  protested.  McLean 
stared  at  me.  "  That 's  no  business  of  yours,"  he  said 
sharply. 

I  remember  my  dismay.  You  see,  I  had  been  vio 
lently  active  for  hours,  feeling  that  the  steamer's  safety 
depended  on  my  exertion.  I  had  really  got  excited. 
And  to  be  told  bluntly  that  all  this  was  of  no  account, 
that  it  did  n't  matter,  flattened  me  out.  I  decided  — 
quite  justly  —  that  the  skipper  was  crazy. 

As  I  stood  there,  very  likely  with  my  mouth  open 
in  my  sooty  face,  Edith  Halsey  came  up.  "  What  has 
happened  ?  "  she  demanded,  drawing  me  apart  from  the 
curious. 

"  The  engines  will  stop,"  I  told  her.  I  tried  to  ex 
plain  and  I  am  sure  I  let  it  out  that  I  thought  the 
skipper  had  lost  his  mind. 

"  Is  Mr.  Eush  all  right  ?  "  she  asked  presently. 

"All  right,"  I  told  her.  Then  I  burst  forth  with 
my  inner  thought.  "  I  wish  he  were  in  command. 
Then  —  " 

"  Then  we  should  all  be  saved  ?  "  she  finished  for  me. 
"But  they  say  he's  a  cruel,  murderous  man.  They 
say-" 

It  struck  me  that  while  I  'd  been  working,  while 
Rush  had  been  keeping  the  machinery  going,  people 
had  been  talking  about  him.  Very  likely  McLean,  with 
nothing  else  to  do,  had  blamed  his  chief  engineer  to 
this  girl.  While  Rush  was  standing  down  there  on  the 


144    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

platform  with  death  breathing  on  him,  they  had  been 
talking  scandal  on  deck.  Our  appalling  plight  sud 
denly  appeared  to  me  in  its  clear  colors.  Here  we 
were,  two  hundred  odd  of  us  in  the  heart  of  the  South 
Pacific,  on  a  steamer  almost  helpless,  overhung  with  a 
cloud  of  death,  under  the  command  of  a  man  who 
did  n't  know  what  to  do,  who  talked  petty  scandal  about 
his  chief  engineer  while  half  a  dozen  grinning  mutineers 
loafed  on  the  after-deck  under  the  awnings.  There  was 
nothing  to  say.  I  shook  my  head  dismally  at  Miss 
Halsey.  It  didn't  even  seem  worth  while  to  justify 
Rush. 

While  we  stared  at  each  other  there  was  a  shout  from 
forward.  I  saw  the  captain  on  the  bridge  grab  his 
glasses.  A  moment  later  the  big  gong  clanged  in  the 
engine-room.  The  vibration  of  the  machinery  ceased. 
Rush  appeared  on  deck,  the  oiler  behind  him.  "What 's 
the  matter  ? "  he  demanded  of  me.  I  shook  my  head. 

The  sun  had  been  risen  a  couple  of  hours  at  most 
and  now  shone  upon  us  out  of  faint  haze  that  whitened 
it  into  a  huge,  silvery  disk.  The  Princess  Eugenia  was 
fast  losing  speed,  and  the  sluggish  rollers  were  heaving 
under  her  quarter  with  sullen  persistence.  We  saw  the 
passengers  pour  out  of  the  saloon  and  run  up  till  they 
stood  under  the  bridge.  Somewhere  a  woman  was  cry 
ing  hysterically.  Rush  and  I  made  our  way  forward. 
The  skipper,  the  chief  officer  beside  him,  was  standing 
rigidly  by  the  rail  staring  ahead  into  a  slight,  reddish 
mist.  As  no  one  paid  any  attention  to  us,  Rush  said 
sharply :  "  Here  we  are,  sir !  " 


THE    BAD    E.GG  145 

McLean  turned  on  us  with  a  look  of  gentle  surprise 
on  his  face.  He  said :  "I  think  we  are  at  the  end 
of  our  course,  Mr.  Rush.  Will  you  look  ahead  and 
tell  me  what  you  see?  Look,  Doctor,  if  you  will." 

I  can  tell  only  what  I  saw  myself.  Lying  low  on 
the  water  was  a  strange,  smoky  mist  that  seemed  to 
encircle  us  at  a  distance  of  about  a  mile.  On  the  edge 
of  this  floated  a  small  schooner  with  her  sails  set.  No 
one  was  at  her  wheel,  and  the  booms  banged  and  slatted 
to  her  every  roll.  That  was  all  I  saw.  McLean's  voice 
in  my  ear  said :  "  Do  you  see  any  signs  of  life  ?  " 

That  question  answered  any  query  you  might  have 
put  to  us.  There  was  no  one  alive  on  that  pretty  vessel. 
The  reddish  mist  was  a  poisonous  emanation.  The 
shadow  of  death  fell  circlewise  about  us.  To  run  into 
it  meant  destruction. 

I  remember  staring  at  the  captain  and  then  turn 
ing  and  consulting  the  sea  about  us.  On  every  side  I 
saw  the  gradually-lowering  cloud  of  ruddy  fog.  Then 
Rush  spoke :  "  We  are  n't  sure  that  this  is  it.  Let 's 
go  ahead  and  see." 

Some  one  caught  the  words  below  and  there  was  a 
tumult.  A  hoarse  voice  yelled :  "  We  won't  go !  "  An 
other  answered  with  a  fluent  curse.  There  followed  a 
wild  stamping  of  feet  and,  before  McLean  could  leap 
to  the  deck,  those  of  the  crew  that  could  make  it  had 
piled  themselves  into  a  boat  and  lowered  it  away  with 
a  run.  The  chief  officer  leaped  to  the  rail  and  pointed 
a  revolver  at  the  men,  but  McLean  called  out :  "  Let 
them  go !  " 


146    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Why  did  they  do  this  ?  Don't  ask  me.  Panic,  I  sup 
pose;  the  fear  that  comes  over  men  who  have  labored 
till  their  bodies  are  exhausted.  And  they  floated  there, 
in  a  frail  craft,  a  few  hundred  feet  away  from  the 
Princess,  not  knowing  which  way  to  go,  what  to  do, 
how  to  avoid  sudden  death.  I  counted  them  through 
the  glass.  The  six  firemen  were  among  them,  half  a 
dozen  of  the  steward's  boys,  a  couple  of  sailors.  Rush 
leaned  over  my  shoulder  and  said  bitterly :  "  There  go 
our  men.  Let 's  get  them  back." 

"  What  for  ?     How  ?  "  I  demanded  angrily. 

My  question,  natural  as  it  was,  seemed  to  bring  us 
up  all  standing.  McLean  bore  an  expression  of  be 
wilderment.  The  chief  officer,  revolver  still  in  hand, 
scowled  at  the  crowding  passengers.  Rush  stared  at 
us  all.  Then  Edith  Halsey  appeared  below  us,  fixing 
her  big  dark  eyes  on  the  chief  engineer.  "  Does  this 
end  it  ? "  she  asked  in  her  full,  low  tones. 

Rush  turned  his  grim  stare  down  on  her.  I  can't 
tell  you  how  odd  he  looked  in  his  charred  clothes,  his 
face  and  arms  sooty  and  scorched,  his  hair  crisped  at 
the  ends  where  the  fire  had  seized  on  it.  And  yet  as 
the  girl  put  this  momentous  question  McLean,  the  mate, 
myself,  all  of  us,  had  to  withdraw,  so  to  speak,  and 
listen  to  our  fate.  Rush  opened  his  lips  briefly: 
"  They  're  coming  back  to  work." 

And  they  came.  I  could  n't  tell  you  just  how  he  did 
it.  But  he  brought  them  back.  His  voice  carried  far 
out  over  them  in  strict  commands.  He  directed  them 
in  the  very  management  of  their  oars,  and  like  children 


THE    BAD    EGG  147 

they  answered  the  quiet  assurance  of  the  man  and 
scrambled  back  on  deck,  swearing  at  each  other.  He 
herded  them  down  into  the  stokehold. 

Half  an  hour  later  we  looked  up  at  the  funnels  and 
saw  fresh  volumes  of  black  smoke  pouring  out  to  mingle 
with  the  almost  imperceptible  shadow  that  hung  over 
the  Princess.  Then  the  sun  reached  the  meridian, 
descended  the  western  sky,  sank  into  the  sea.  Still  we 
did  n't  move.  The  colors  changed  swiftly  in  the  sky. 
Darkness  came.  And  we  saw  something  that  horrified 
us.  The  schooner  showed  two  lights,  the  red  and  the 
green.  They  twinkled  out  from  the  invisible  cloud 
with  a  message  of  routine  method,  of  regular,  unques 
tioning  obedience  to  the  law  that  rules  the  traffic  of 
the  seas. 

"  There 's  some  one  alive  on  that  vessel,"  said 
McLean. 

But  the  mate  would  n't  believe  it.  "  They  were 
caught  by  the  poison  last  night,"  he  said.  "  Those  lights 
have  burned  all  day.  There  was  nobody  to  put  them 
out  this  morning." 

An  hour  later  Rush  reappeared  to  ask  what  the  cap 
tain  intended  to  do.  McLean  did  n't  know.  "  Possibly 
.  .  .  the  passengers,  you  see  .  .  .  great  responsibility 
...  in  fact  .  .  .  ."  The  skipper  mouthed  mere 
phrases  that  signified  nothing  but  a  perturbed  mind. 
Rush  touched  me  on  the  arm  as  he  passed  back  and 
said :  "  Come  down  and  help  me.  I  want  to  tell  you 
something." 

The  engine-room  seemed  strangely  dark  and  silent 


148    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

as  we  descended  into  it.  Rush  had  hung  lanterns  here 
and  there  where  a  ghostly  gleam  could  fall  on  some 
steel  face,  or  throw  the  huge  shadow  of  a  pillar  against 
the  darkness.  At  the  working  platform  he  stopped  and 
we  gazed  up  at  the  stolid  dials  of  the  gauges  and  tele 
graph  signals.  Then  Rush  began :  "  McLean  does  n't 
know  what  he  is  doing.  We  've  been  close  to  losing  our 
crew  this  day  and  we  're  a  good  week's  sail  from  any 
where.  I  'm  the  only  man  left  on  this  ship  that  can 
even  start  these  engines.  Whuff !  and  I  'm  gone !  Then, 
man,  this  ship  will  rot  before  anybody  finds  her.  This 
is  no  time  for  dallying.  This  is  the  time  to  be  moving 
along  and  out  of  this  sea.  Go  and  tell  the  skipper  what 
I  say,  Doctor." 

I  started  to  answer  him  when  I  was  aware  of  another 
with  us.  I  peered  up  the  steel  ladder  and  saw  Edith 
Halsey  standing  there,  one  white  arm  outstretched  on 
the  hand-rail.  Rush  caught  sight  of  her  at  the  same 
time  and  gave  utterance  to  a  groan. 

"  I  came  down  to  see  whether  I  could  n't  help  you," 
she  said  quietly. 

"  You !  "  Rush  burst  out.  "  Are  n't  there  any  men 
left  on  this  ship  ?  " 

I  discerned  the  shadow  of  a  smile  on  her  face.  She 
looked  directly  down  into  the  engineer's  eyes  while  she 
simply  answered :  "  None  but  yourself,  Mr.  Rush." 

"  This  is  no  place  for  you,"  he  stammered.  "You 
might  —  you  might  get  hurt." 

She  refused  to  listen,  but  repeated :  "  Is  there  any 
thing  I  can  do  ?  " 


THEBADEGG  149 

"  She  might  go  and  tell  the  captain  what  you  say," 
I  suggested  stupidly,  and  to  my  astonishment  she  ac 
cepted  the  mission  instantly.  We  watched  her  go 
swiftly  back  up  the  steps.  Then  Rush  went  on  into 
the  fire-room. 

Miss  Halsey  returned  in  a  few  minutes  and  stopped 
on  the  platform  beside  me  in  evident  excitement.  She 
demanded  to  know  where  Rush  was.  I  told  her  and 
led  the  way  down  and  forward  into  the  fire-room.  As 
I  opened  the  door  Rush  came  toward  it,  the  glow  of 
the  fires  red  on  his  face.  He  motioned  Miss  Halsey 
back,  in  alarmed  solicitous  fashion,  but  she  paid  no 
heed  to  him.  "  The  captain  is  afraid,"  she  announced 
quietly.  "  He  is  afraid  of  the  mist  ahead  of  us.  He 
thinks  we  had  better  wait." 

Rush  would  have  answered,  but  the  men  behind  him 
shuffled  up  menacingly.  One  of  them  growled :  "  We 
don't  stay  down  here  any  longer.  We  're  hungry  and 
we  're  tired.  We  quit  right  here." 

Involuntarily,  I  suppose,  Miss  Halsey  and  I  ranged 
ourselves  with  the  engineer  in  front  of  the  only  exit. 
Rush's  face  showed  a  moment's  worry.  "  You  men 
will  stay  here  and  work,"  he  said,  above  the  roar  of 
the  boilers.  "  I  '11  kill  the  first  man  that  refuses  duty !  " 

They  backed  off,  but  we  heard  their  protests: 
"  The  skipper  would  n't  stand  for  having  them  abused. 
Enough  of  them  had  died  already.  The  ship  was  being 
abandoned.  They  would  go  on  deck." 

On  the  eve  of  their  onset  Rush  backed  firmly  against 
the  iron  door  and  thrust  a  revolver  out  toward  them. 


150    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  I  'm  running  this  engine-room,"  he  told  them  coldly. 
"  The  man  that  does  n't  get  back  to  his  work  is  a  dead 
one."  And  while  they  hung  in  the  wind  he  turned  to 
Edith  again.  "  I  've  got  plenty  of  steam  up,"  he  said. 
"  We  could  get  a  good  sixteen  knots  out  of  her  now  if 
McLean  would  only  make  up  his  mind  and  run  for 
it."  His  eyes  carried  a  message  of  helplessness. 

She  balanced  herself  on  the  reeling  plates,  ignoring 
utterly  the  grumbling  crew.  A  smile  lit  up  her  face. 
"  I  said  to  myself  that  you  were  the  only  man  left  on 
the  ship,"  she  said.  "  It 's  true." 

He  returned  her  smile.  "  That 's  nicely  said,  Miss 
Halsey.  And  I  know  what  they  've  been  telling  about 
me  up  on  deck.  I  kill  men  when  it 's  necessary.  I  'm 
the  original  devil,  that 's  what  I  am.  McLean 's  all 
right,  but  he  's  not  up  to  his  work.  He  's  thinking  of 
the  company,  of  the  passengers,  of  the  people  ashore 
who  '11  want  to  know  all  about  it." 

"  Whom  are  you  thinking  of  ?  "  she  demanded. 

A  shrill  cry  from  the  hold  pierced  through  the  murk. 

A  man  staggered  out,  swinging  back  and  forth  to  the 
roll  of  the  steamer,  sought  for  some  handhold,  choked 
horribly  and  fell.  While  I  bent  over  him  I  heard 
Rush's  unshaken  voice  say :  "  I  'm  thinking  of  you. 
Say  the  word,  and  I  '11  save  you." 

"  Why  ?  "  I  heard  her  ask  breathlessly. 

"  Because  I  want  you,"  he  answered.  "  All  my  life 
I  Ve  tried  to  find  a  woman  worth  my  while.  I  'm  a 
brute  and  I  'm  down  in  the  books  for  all  sorts  of  things. 
But  that  doesn't  matter  now,  Edith.  I  love  you." 


THEBADEGG  151 

The  man  on  the  deck  slowly  got  his  breath  and  I 
helped  him  to  his  feet.  Possibly  I  missed  something 
they  said  to  each  other.  But  as  the  men  once  more 
surged  forward,  this  time  mad  with  pain  and  fear,  she 
jerked  the  revolver  out  of  Rush's  hand,  drove  it  into  the 
very  mouth  of  the  leader  of  the  mutineers  and  said: 
"  The  man  that  wants  to  die,  come  on."  She  turned 
her  dark  eyes  on  the  chief  engineer.  "  I  'm  going  to 
do  it,"  she  told  him.  "  You  start  the  engines.  I  '11 
keep  these  fellows  at  work." 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  he  passed  her  and 
adjusted  a  valve.  Then  he  opened  the  drafts  wide  and 
motioned  to  the  men  to  get  to  work.  You  would  have 
thought  he  would  have  had  something  to  say,  but  he 
merely  gazed  round  at  us  all  and  then,  taking  my  arm, 
opened  the  engine-room  door.  As  we  went  out  he  said, 
over  his  shoulder :  "  I  leave  them  to  you.  I  '11  do  my 
part."  And  she  answered  him  with  a  pitiful  look  of 
obedience. 

I  can  see  him  yet  swaying  easily  over  the  many  ob 
structions  till  he  came  to  a  halt  under  the  big  signal 
dial  that  marked  the  orders  from  the  bridge.  It  pointed 
still  to  STOP.  He  looked  at  it  and  then  reached  up  with 
a  determined  gesture  and  put  the  lever  over  to  full 
speed  ahead.  There  was  a  clashing  of  gongs  about  us 
and  slowly  the  engines  rose  and  started  on  their  toil 
with  flash  of  steel  and  hiss  of  steam,  as  he  opened  the 
big  overhead  valve. 

Almost  immediately  the  indicator  traveled  back  to 
STOP  and  the  gongs  clamored  again.  McLean  was  on 


152    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

the  bridge.  But  Rush  refused  to  answer  the  command 
in  kind  and  jammed  the  indicator  over  to  full  speed 
ahead  once  more.  The  engines  picked  up  their  gait, 
and  we  felt  the  big  steamer  surge  slowly  along  through 
the  water. 

Still  again  the  gongs  yelled  at  us  their  imperative 
message  to  stop.  Again  Rush  deliberately  thrust  the 
answering  lever  back  to  full  speed  ahead.  Then  he 
turned  on  me  and  smiled.  "  Doctor,  suppose  you  go 
in  and  help  Miss  Halsey  keep  the  fires  going.  You 
know  a  little  about  it.  If  the  men  balk,  you  know  what 
to  do.  We  '11  need  all  the  steam  we  can  get." 

Miss  Halsey  had  picked  up  a  dirty  jacket  discarded 
by  some  choking  stoker  and  stood  in  the  midst  of  the 
toiling  men  with  unconcerned  eyes  on  the  gauges.  The 
heat  tossed  her  hair  about  her  forehead  and  scorched 
her  cheeks.  A  puff  of  carbon  burned  the  hem  of  her 
skirt  away.  But  she  paid  no  attention  to  it.  Now  and 
then  she  would  look  straight  into  the  eyes  of  some  hulk 
ing  fireman,  and  the  man  would  fall  to  his  work  again 
with  an  expression  of  puzzled  subjection. 

Rush  came  in  after  a  while  and  gave  calm  directions 
and  orders.  He  did  n't  exchange  a  word  with  the  girl 
about  her  being  there,  offer  her  sympathy  or  thanks. 
As  he  went  back  to  his  engines  I  caught  him  by  the 
sleeve  and  remonstrated  with  him  for  allowing  her  to 
stay  longer  down  there.  "  She 's  all  right,"  he  said 
gruffly.  "  She  's  helping.  But  —  "  he  paused  a  mo 
ment  considerately  and  went  on,  "  but  if  she  dies, 
call  me." 


THEBADEGG  153 

A  moment  later  Miss  Halsey  came  over  to  me  and 
said:  "What  did  he  say?" 

"He  said  for  me  to  call  him  if  you  —  if  you  were 
taken  ill,"  I  told  her. 

Her  eyes  shone  and  I  saw  the  gentleness  of  her  pro 
file  as  she  turned  away.  I  thought  I  heard  her  say, 
"  God  help  the  man's  sweetheart !  "  but  I  was  n't  sure. 

I  can't  tell  you  what  was  doing  on  deck  all  this  while 
except  as  I  heard  about  it  afterward.  It  seems  that 
McLean  finally  acquiesced  in  the  maneuver  so  mutin 
ously  forced  on  him  by  Rush,  and  took  the  wheel 
himself.  In  fact,  he  straightened  the  Princess  out  just 
in  time  to  avoid  running  down  the  schooner.  The  mate 
told  me  they  looked  down  on  her  decks  and  saw  white 
faces  staring  up  at  them  through  the  darkness,  the  faces 
of  her  dead  crew.  Then  McLean  fell  over,  choking,  and 
died,  with  one  foot  caught  in  the  grating  on  which  he 
had  been  standing. 

Down  in  the  fire-room  we  knew  nothing  of  the  dawn. 
Miss  Halsey  was  still  standing  among  us,  still  vigilant, 
though  scorched,  grimy,  her  eyes  circled  by  great  rings 
of  soot.  The  steam  gauges  registered  fifty  pounds  — 
the  best  we  could  do.  The  clock  marked  six  o'clock 
when  Rush  looked  in  on  us,  gave  a  hand  on  the  chain 
that  raised  the  heavy  draft-shutters,  stood  a  moment 
silently  staring  at  the  girl  and  was  going  out  again. 
Suddenly  we  heard  cries  on  deck,  the  sound  of  them 
floating  down  to  us  through  the  lofty  gratings.  Miss 
Halsey  dropped  her  revolver,  for  the  cries  were  of  joy, 
of  relief,  and  down  through  the  ventilators  came  a  faint, 


154    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

delicious  draft  of  air,  bearing  the  scent  of  the  fresh, 
open  sea,  of  leagues  of  frothing  waves,  the  sharp  odor 
of  pure  winds.  Rush  smiled.  "  It 's  all  right  now. 
The  breeze  is  freshening."  He  picked  up  the  revolver 
and  dismissed  Miss  Halsey  and  myself  with  a  curt 
"  That  will  do  for  you  two." 

Two  hours  later  the  Princess  Eugenia  was  once  more 
trim  and  in  such  order  as  the  crew  and  volunteers  from 
the  passengers  could  put  her.  The  captain  had  been 
buried  and  the  chief  officer  was  in  command.  The 
steward  made  his  little  force  do  double  duty,  and  under 
a  fresh,  blowy  sky  we  were  pursuing  our  feeble  way 
down  to  port  under  what  steam  we  could  keep  in  the 
boilers. 

Among  the  first  to  revive  and  resume  an  interest  in 
daily  life  was  Mary  Russell.  She  dried  her  tears  and 
came  down  to  luncheon.  On  her  way  she  passed  Rush, 
grimy  as  ever,  white  with  exhaustion  under  the  soot, 
clad  in  filthy  rags  of  uniform,  altogether  a  dull  sight 
and  a  reminder  that  the  ship  had  suffered.  She  stopped 
to  speak  to  him.  "  Why  don't  you  clean  up  ?  "  she 
demanded,  with  a  frown.  Rush  stared  and  laughed, 
but  he  didn't  answer;  merely  turned  back  to  his 
engines. 

Close  behind  Miss  Russell,  Edith  Halsey  entered  the 
saloon.  She  was  freshly  gowned,  trim,  serene.  Telltale 
blisters  on  her  slim  hands,  scorched  flush  on  her  cheeks, 
curled  eyelashes,  crisped  hair  alone  told  her  experience. 
And  when  she  came  in  all  the  men  looked  up  and 
smiled  and  called  out  greetings,  openly  recognizing  that 


THEBADEGG  155 

what  she  had  done  for  them  all  was  known  and  priced 
at  its  high  value.  She  responded  quietly,  her  great  dark 
eyes  fixed  on  the  distance  in  a  profound  and  inscrutable 
expression  of  sorrow,  of  some  sort  of  suffering.  She 
ate  sparingly  and  was  soon  away. 

Luncheon  over  —  I  was  master  of  ceremonies  at  that 
meal  —  we  left  the  saloon  for  the  deck,  climbing  up  the 
big  stairways  with  jests  and  laughter.  But  as  we 
emerged  on  deck  we  came  fairly  upon  Rush  and  Miss 
Halsey.  He  stood  on  both  feet,  in  his  filth  and  grime, 
leaning  against  nothing,  his  hands  clasping  nothing, 
like  a  man  ready  to  fight.  Before  him  the  girl  stood, 
looking  at  him  with  her  full,  intense  gaze.  A  little 
apart  Mary  Russell  crouched  in  a  chair,  her  chin  in 
her  hand  and  her  scared  eyes  fixed  on  them  both. 

"  I  don't  care  how  dirty  you  are,"  Miss  Halsey  was 
saying  slowly.  "  I  know  what  you  've  done  and  I  want 
to  be  fair  to  you.  While  the  rest  of  us  are  enjoying  our 
selves  you  are  still  at  work  seeing  to  it  that  we  get  to 
our  destination.  But  while  I  respect  you  for  that,  I 
wish  you  to  understand  distinctly  that  your  attentions 
and  your  presumption  are  distasteful,  Mr.  Rush." 

"  But  you  were  anxious  enough  to  share  my  watch 
with  me,"  he  returned,  in  apparent  perplexity. 

"  I  thought  I  ought  to  do  my  part,"  she  replied, 
biting  her  lip.  "  And  you  told  me  that  you  would  save 
the  ship  if  I  would  help  you.  I  '11  admit,"  she  went  on 
hastily,  "  that  you  meant  to  offer  me  your  affection  and 
that  I  allowed  you  to  think  that  I  might  accept  it.  But 
I  did  it  —  I  did  it  to  save  us  all !  " 


"  I  see,"  he  said.  "  As  long  as  you  were  afraid  for 
your  own  pretty  life,  you  hunted  up  the  only  man  on 
the  ship  that  you  thought  could  save  it  for  you,  the  only 
man  with  wit  and  nerve  to  go  ahead  and  pull  the  ship 
through.  And  when  he  's  done  it,  you  turn  up  your 
nose  and  confess  that  you  led  him  on  just  to  save  your 
self.  Now,  Miss  Halsey,  I  want  you  to  understand  that 
I  usually  get  what  I  want.  I  ain't  afraid,  either,  as  you 
know." 

She  waved  us  back  with  an  almost  imperceptible 
gesture.  "  I  did  n't  intend  to  say  what  I  'm  going 
to  say  now,"  she  answered  bravely  enough.  "  You  are 
a  coward.  You  are  a  murderer  and  a  thief  and  a  liar. 
Because  you  are  in  a  position  of  authority,  and  because 
your  passions  have  rein  over  your  subordinates,  you 
play  the  man.  You  have  killed.  You  have  lied.  You 
have  even  made  me  offer  myself  as  the  price  of  your 
saving  the  ship,  the  great  price,  Mr.  Rush,  of  becoming 
your  wife.  But  I  know  that  you  are  a  coward.  If  you 
were  a  stoker  like  the  poor  fellow  you  shot,  you  would 
have  been  sniveling  on  the  deck,  cursing  your  officers, 
afraid  for  your  poor,  worthless  life.  Being  the  chief 
engineer  you  have  done  your  duty,  no  more  than  your 
duty,  because  it  gave  you  a  chance,  you  thought,  to  buy 
a  woman,  and  allow  your  cruelty  and  your  lying  to 
have  some  little  glory  all  of  their  own.  Oh !  "  she  cried 
out  softly,  "to  think  that  you  are  such  a  coward !  " 

The  man's  sooty  face  became  almost  chalk-white.  He 
drew  back  a  step,  curling  his  lip  like  an  angry  dog. 
All  his  arrogance  had  changed  into  rage.  "  I  '11  show 


THEBADEGG  157 

you  who  's  the  coward,"  he  said  violently.  "  I  '11  show 
you,  my  fair  lady,  just  —  " 

Some  one  should  long  before  have  closed  the  rascal's 
mouth;  but  we  were  still  under  the  spell  of  his  arro 
gance,  you  understand.  We  had  n't  forgot  the  brilliancy 
of  his  achievement.  It  remained  for  Edith  Halsey's 
father,  red-faced,  breathing  heavily,  to  push  forward 
and  strike  him  full  in  the  mouth.  "  Get  back  to  your 
machinery !  "  he  roared  at  him.  "  If  you  dare  to  ad 
dress  another  word  to  my  daughter  I  '11  kill  you !  " 

The  fellow's  temporary  ascendency  over  us  vanished 
like  a  soap  bubble.  He  did  n't  even  try  to  reply,  but 
slunk  off,  muttering  to  himself,  craven,  shaking  with 
impotent  rage,  all  the  structure  of  his  insolence  and 
his  bravado  crumbled  about  his  shoulders  by  old  man 
Halsey's  clean  wrath.  Really,  you  see,  spite  of  his 
doing  a  big  thing,  the  man  was  a  bad  egg.  So,  having 
done  that  thing,  he  was  thrust  back  from  the  company 
of  his  betters,  once  more  a  known  scoundrel,  infamous, 
mean,  contemptible.  Yet  Providence,  juster  than  men, 
rewarded  him  with  the  affection  of  Mary  Russell.  She 
married  him  in  Auckland.  To  start  her  off  in  her  new 
life  happily  the  passengers  presented  her  with  a  splen 
didly-engrossed  memorial,  stating  in  fine  words  that 
Edward  Rush  was  a  hero  and  had  saved  life  on  the 
high  seas.  Among  the  first  signatures  was  that  of  Edith 
Halsey,  who  thus  proudly  abjured  her  great  share  in  the 
good  works  of  a  thoroughly  bad  egg. 


NEIGHBORS 

ROBERT  TALBOT,  of  the  Taloot  Navigation  Company, 
leaned  back  in  his  office  chair  and  looked  steadily  at  the 
captain  of  the  schooner  Suisun.  "  Watson,"  he  said 
abruptly,  "  how  do  you  get  along  with  the  sailors' 
union  ?  " 

Watson  hung  his  cap  over  one  knee  and  leaned  back, 
too.  "  I  've  never  run  foul  of  the  union  yet,"  he 
answered.  "  You  see,  it  pays  most  of  its  attention  to 
the  steamers.  Of  course  I  have  a  union  crew,  but  I  've 
never  had  any  trouble." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  anyway  ? "  Talbot  con 
tinued. 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  the  reply.  "  You  see,  I  never 
got  mixed  up  with  it.  But  I  reckon  it 's  a  mighty  good 
thing  for  the  men.  Wages  have  just  doubled,  and  that 
means  better  sailors.  But  I  don't  know  as  I  have  any 
particular  opinion  about  the  union  as  a  union." 

The  owner  of  the  Suisun  sat  deep  in  thought  for  a 
while.  When  he  spoke  it  was  with  decision.  "  Our 
line  has  never  had  any  trouble  with  the  union,"  he  said 
curtly.  "  We  've  never  had  any  difficulties  at  all  with 
the  men,  as  you  know.  Our  employees  have  been  well 
treated  and  they  Ve  reciprocated,  I  must  say.  But 
trouble  has  come.  You  know  how  freights  are  now  — 


NEIGHBORS  159 

'way  down.  In  the  two  years  you  've  had  the  Suisun 
you  've  probably  figured  for  yourself  that  there 's 
mighty  little  money  in  lumber.  And  lumber  makes  the 
market.  Our  little  profit  in  carrying  it  comes  from 
handling  the  cargo  ourselves  with  the  ship's  crew.  The 
union  has  said  we  sha'n't  do  it  any  more,  and  that  we 
shall  employ  longshoremen  for  all  loading  or  stowing. 
You  know  that  usually  we  load  lumber  with  the  crew 
and  pay  them  time  and  a  half  for  it.  But  we  've  never 
paid  time  and  a  half  for  putting  on  the  deck  load  and 
we  can't  afford  to.  It  means  running  our  vessels  at  a 
dead  loss.  We  can't  stand  for  it,  Watson." 

The  skipper  pondered  this  and  then  cast  a  shrewd  eye 
on  his  chief.  "  We  never  have  done  much  lumber  carry 
ing,  sir,"  he  suggested.  "  Our  line  has  always  gone 
its  own  way.  I  can  see  how  that  new  demand  from  the 
union  hits  the  big  companies  hard,  but  why  don't  they 
fight  their  own  battle  ?  It 's  really  none  of  our  concern, 
Mr.  Talbot,  for  you  don't  take  lumber  charters  twice 
a  year.  Why  does  the  Talbot  line  have  to  stand  for 
the  first  struggle  and  the  hottest  row  ?  For  it  '11  be  a 
hot  row.  The  union  is  wise  and  would  n't  run  the  risk 
of  losing  much  for  little  unless  they  thought  they  could 
put  it  through.  Why,  they  've  got  to  win,  or  else  they  're 
up  against  it.  And  why  are  we  shoved  in  right  in  front 
to  take  the  first  licks  ? " 

Talbot's  face  darkened  at  his  captain's  frank  speech. 
"  I  may  as  well  say  that  it 's  just  because  we  've  always 
stood  apart  that  we  've  got  to  do  the  hard  work  now," 
he  remarked  grimly.  "  The  big  fellows  can  afford  to 


hold  off  and  fight  and  lay  their  ships  up.  We  can't,  and 
they  know  it,  and  so  we've  been  picked  out  to  start  the 
ball.  See  ?  We  Ve  always  been  friendly  with  the 
union,  but  the  shipowners  have  us  cornered.  If  we  go 
with  the  union  we  can't  make  a  cent,  for  the  big  com 
panies  will  shove  freights  down  to  zero,  and  we  '11  be 
frozen  out  of  all  our  trade.  So  we  've  got  to  fight  the 
union  and  do  it  alone,  too,  Watson,  for  a  while." 

"  It  is  n't  fair,"  Watson  said  bluntly.  "  It  'a  a  skin 
game." 

"  It 's  fair  so  far  as  fighting  the  union,  Watson," 
Talbot  returned.  "  It 's  true  that  their  demands  have 
got  to  be  put  a  stop  to  somewhere.  They  are  getting 
outrageous.  We  've  got  to  be  able  to  run  our  own  busi 
ness.  But  it  is  n't  fair  for  the  McBeths  and  the  B.  &  H. 
people  to  stand  out  and  shove  the  Talbot  line  into  a 
fight  for  existence  when  we  are  n't  directly  concerned. 
But  I  suppose  we  must  all  hang  together.  The  men 
stick  to  the  union  and  the  owners  must  stick  to  the 
association.  But  what  I  want  to  know  is,  do  you  think 
you  can  keep  the  Suisun  going  ?  She  's  under  charter  to 
take  lumber  out  of  the  Columbia  River  to  San  Pedro. 
She  '11  carry  a  good  million  feet  if  you  stow  the  deck 
load  properly." 

Watson  nodded.  "  I  see  the  point.  We  load  at  the 
mill  and  then  drop  down  to  another  mill  for  a  deck 
load,  which  will  be  dumped  aboard  and  stowed  —  by 
my  crew.  And  the  union  says  —  " 

"  The  union  says  that  the  vessel's  crew  sha'n't  touch 
a  stick  of  cargo  in  port,  and  out  of  port  not  unless  they 


NEIGHBORS  161 

are  paid  time  and  a  half.  We  can't  afford  to  pay  time 
and  a  half,  captain." 

There  was  a  silence,  broken  when  the  Suisun's  mas 
ter  remarked,  with  a  chill  light  in  his  blue  eyes,  "  This 
is  October.  Nasty  weather  ahead.  I  hate  to  take  a 
vessel  to  sea  with  the  cargo  ill  stowed.  But  if  I  try  to 
force  the  crew  into  stowing  it  from  the  slings  they  '11 
walk  off,  and  we  're  out  a  crew  and  probably  can't  get 
another.  If  I  sail  with  the  lashings  off  it  means  a 
good  bit  of  risk  before  I  can  persuade  'em  to  work  with 
out  time  and  a  half." 

The  owner's  eyes  met  the  captain's.  "  Do  you  think 
you  can  persuade  them  ?  "  Talbot  inquired. 

Watson's  eyes  grew  chillier  than  before.  He  rose. 
"  I  '11  try,"  he  said  coldly.  "  And  if  they  mutiny,  why, 
I  've  been  in  mutinies  in  my  time." 

"  I  don't  want  —  "  Talbot  began,  and  stopped  under 
the  quizzical  glance  of  his  subordinate. 

"  I  know  what  you  don't  want,"  that  individual  re 
turned  half  humorously.  "  But  if  this  pudding  has  got 
to  be  eaten  it 's  got  to  be  served  hot."  He  put  his  cap 
on.  "  I  'm  a  man  of  peace,"  he  added,  almost  savagely. 
"  I  like  quiet  aft  and  no  grumbling  forward.  But 
orders  are  orders,  and  if  you  say  fight  the  union,  why, 
fight  it  is.  I  '11  engage  a  tug  for  to-morrow,  sir."  He 
opened  the  door,  letting  in  the  roar  of  San  Francisco, 
looked  back  with  a  glance  of  reassurance,  closed  the 
door,  and  left  Talbot  to  stare  into  vacancy  and  murmur : 
"  I  hate  this  business  —  always  friendly  with  our  men 
—  What  will  it  end  in,  anyway  ?  " 


162    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Vacancy  refusing  to  answer,  he  plunged  wearily  into 
his  mail. 

Not  many  blocks  distant  from  the  office  of  the  Talbot 
Navigation  Company  six  men  sat  in  a  rather  rudely- 
furnished  room  listening  to  a  tall,  stoop-shouldered 
enthusiast  whose  shrill  voice  rose  and  fell  with  the 
swing  of  a  speaker  used  to  addressing  small  audiences. 
"  They  've  all  joined  together  to  lick  us,"  he  was  saying. 
"  Every  company  on  the  coast  has  agreed  to  fight  us 
to  a  standstill  on  this  time-and-a-half  business.  The 
McBeth  people  and  the  B.  &  H.  line  say  they  '11  tie 
their  boats  up  indefinitely,  and  you  know  what  that 
means  —  forty-odd  vessels  not  needing  crews,  and  in 
creased  assessments  for  you  boys  that  are  still  at  work. 
But  all  this  time  has  been  under  cover.  They  have  n't 
made  no  answer  to  the  union's  demand.  They  ain't  said 
a  word  to  show  whether  they  're  goin'  to  come  through 
or  not.  But  I  know :  it 's  all  cut  and  dried.  They  've 
picked  out  the  Talbots  to  stand  us  off  for  a  while.  The 
Talbot  line  has  always  been  fair,  and  everybody  on  the 
water-front  knows  it.  So  if  they  get  the  Talbots  into 
line  against  us  they  get  more  'n  a  few  vessels :  they  get 
public  sympathy,  and  that 's  a  heap.  And  I  know  their 
scheme,  too.  They  're  goin'  to  bring  us  up  against  time 
and  a  half  on  a  Talbot  boat  and  see  if  we  've  got  the 
nerve  to  stick  to  it  even  when  our  friends  is  in  a  pinch. 

"  Boys,  we  gotta  get  in  and  fight.  This  ain't  a  ques 
tion  of  friends  and  it  ain't  no  question  of  Talbots, 
either ;  it 's  a  question  of  the  union.  This  ain't  no 
picnic.  This  is  war.  And  we  gotta  win."  His  voice 


NEIGHBORS  163 

dropped  suddenly  and  he  became  businesslike.  "  The 
Suisun  has  asked  for  a  crew  this  afternoon  and  to 
morrow  she  sails  for  the  Columbia  River  for  lumber. 
You  're  the  crew.  I  've  picked  you  boys  out  because 
I  know  you  and  I  can  trust  you  to  hold  up  your  end. 
Nobody  can't  say  that  you  ain't  a  good,  competent  crew 
and  all  family  men  livin'  right  here  in  the  city.  The 
big  owners  are  all  the  time  throwin'  it  up  to  us  that 
our  men  ain't  citizens  and  don't  pay  no  taxes  or  have 
families  or  live  in  houses.  That  talk  won't  go  this 
time.  You  men  have  all  got  wives  and  children  in  this 
man's  town  and  you  pay  taxes.  Now  you  just  go  and 
show  the  Talbots  that  nobody  can  run  schooners  and 
steamers  on  this  coast  and  walk  over  the  workingman 
that  earns  'em  their  profits  and  looks  out  after  his  own 
kin  as  well."  He  stopped  and  looked  at  them. 

The  six  men  glanced  at  one  another  steadily,  without 
moving  a  muscle  of  their  faces.  Then  one  of  them  said : 
"  Watson  is  master  of  the  Suisun." 

They  digested  this  remark  before  another  added: 
"  He  's  an  awful  hard  man.  I  sailed  with  him  once 
deep  water.  He  never  stood  no  nonsense." 

"  I  've  heard  he  was  a  hard  man  at  sea,"  said  a  third. 
"  I  never  sailed  with  him.  We  're  neighbors.  I  live 
next  door  to  him.  My  wife  knows  his  wife." 

Their  director's  sour  looks  recalled  them.  "  That 
ain't  the  question,"  he  told  them.  "  This  is  a  question 
of  the  union.  No  man  can  stand  in  the  face  of  the 
union,  and  Watson  has  got  to  knuckle  under.  If  he 
gets  away  with  you,  boys,  and  you  turn  to  and  work 


cargo  for  him,  then  you  've  undone  the  work  that  we  Ve 
been  doin'  for  ten  years,  and  your  wages  '11  drop,  and 
it  won't  be  banks  for  you  nor  money  for  your  wives,  but 
back  to  the  old  wet  dog's  life  and  hell  ashore.  Now  you 
boys  had  better  be  gettin'  down  to  the  Commissioner's 
and  signin'  on."  He  dismissed  them  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand  and  turned  back  to  a  desk  where  he  sat  him 
down,  a  lean,  gaunt,  ill-kempt  man  whose  gnarled  fin 
gers  bore  evidence  to  years  of  harsh  toil.  The  sailors 
filed  out,  a  steady-looking  lot,  sturdy-legged,  neatly- 
clothed,  bronze-faced,  carrying  themselves  with  dignity 
as  befitted  the  representatives  of  the  great  Sailors' 
Union  of  the  Pacific. 

On  the  sidewalk  they  halted  awkwardly  till  one  of 
them  said :  "  Oh,  we  don't  want  a  drink.  Let 's  go  and 
ship.  I  've  said  my  good-by  to  the  old  woman  and  the 
kids." 

"  That 's  right,"  said  another.  "  I  said  mine,  too ; 
but  if  any  of  you  mates  has  to  go  home  for  a  minute, 
why,  I  'm  for  waiting."  A  glance  round  brought  head- 
shakings.  "  All  set,"  then  said  the  speaker.  "  Let 's 
go  down  and  get  to  work." 

The  next  day,  walking  back  and  forth  on  the  quarter 
deck  of  the  Suisun,  Watson  carefully  surveyed  the  crew 
and  nodded  approvingly  to  his  first  mate.  "  That 's  the 
smartest  lot  ever  sailed  with  me,"  he  briefly  commented. 

"  Good  men,"  the  mate  agreed.  "  But  what  gets  me, 
captain,  is  why  are  they  here  ?  Higgins  has  been  bos'n 
of  the  Elder  for  several  trips,  drawing  good,  fat  wages. 
Smith  has  been  working  'long  shore  for  the  union  at 


NEIGHBORS  165 

Seattle,  and  Oleson  was  secretary  of  the  Oakland  local. 
What  are  all  these  first-class  men  doing  here  on  the 
Suisun?  " 

Watson's  frosty  eyes  met  his  officer's.  "  I  'm  not 
worrying  my  head  about  that,"  he  remarked.  "  Get 
that  hawser  flaked  down  and  then  set  the  spinnaker, 
Mr.  Martin." 

Three  days  later  the  Suisun  crossed  into  the  Columbia 
after  one  of  the  fastest  passages  on  record,  was  picked  up 
by  a  towboat,  and  within  forty-eight  hours  was  lying 
by  a  sawmill  wharf,  ballast  out  and  lumber  swinging  in. 
Watson  put  the  crew  to  bending  new  and  stronger  sails 
and  clearing  the  decks  for  the  top  cargo.  When  the 
hatches  were  on  the  Suisun  was  again  picked  up  by  a 
huge  sternwheeler  and  taken  into  the  lower  Columbia  and 
to  a  wharf  jutting  out  at  the  foot  of  a  lofty  green  cliff. 

Watson  called  the  mate.  "  We  '11  take  on  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  thousand  feet  here  on  deck,"  he  stated. 
"  Set  the  crew  to  stowing  it  as  it  comes  aboard  in  the 
slings,  Mr.  Martin." 

Half  an  hour  later  Martin  stuck  his  head  into  the 
captain's  berth  and  said :  "  Crew  refuses  to  handle 
cargo,  sir.  Says  it 's  against  union  rules." 

Watson  laid  down  his  book  and  followed  his  chief 
officer  on  deck.  His  quick  eye  caught  a  sling  of  yellow 
lumber  swinging  idly  above  the  deck  and  two  or  three 
men  looking  curiously  down  from  the  wharf.  The  man 
ager  of  the  mill  was  gesticulating  to  attract  his  atten 
tion.  "  We  're  ready  to  deliver  you  your  cargo,"  he 
called  down.  "  Are  you  ready  to  receive  it  ?  " 


"  Lower  away !  "  Watson  commanded,  and  then 
glanced  at  his  crew,  gathered  closely  about  the  foremast. 
He  looked  up  again  to  the  mill  manager.  "  Send  the 
stuff  aboard  as  fast  as  you  can,"  he  told  him.  "  We  '11 
handle  it."  He  turned  to  his  crew,  walking  slowly 
toward  them.  "  I  understand  that  you  refuse  duty.  I 
know  why,  and  I  won't  beat  about  the  bush.  Your 
union  has  made  a  demand  on  Talbot  &  Co.  to  pay  time 
and  a  half  for  such  work  or  else  hire  longshoremen. 
There  are  no  longshoremen  here,  and  the  mill,  of  course, 
is  only  concerned  in  getting  the  stuff  off  the  wharf. 
The  ship  will  not  pay  time  and  a  half.  Just  consider 
that  settled  —  Mr.  Martin,  cast  off  that  sling  and  turn 
the  men  to  stowing."  He  stared  at  them  all  masterfully 
and  went  back  to  his  cabin. 

Inside  of  five  minutes  the  mate  was  in  the  cabin, 
boiling  with  rage.  "  They  refuse  duty,"  he  roared. 
"  Sassed  me  to  my  face !  What  '11  I  do  ? " 

Watson  closed  his  book  again.  "  I  see,"  he  remarked 
calmly.  "  Mr.  Martin,  we  can't  do  anything  at  present. 
I  don't  want  to  lose  my  crew.  We've  got  to  get  that 
deck  load  aboard  some  way.  We  won't  stow  it  at  pres 
ent.  Just  dump  the  slings  as  best  you  can.  The  men 
can't  refuse  to  unhook  the  slings." 

Martin  glared  at  his  superior  with  open  mouth, 
seemed  about  to  say  something,  thought  better  of  it,  and 
retired.  Almost  immediately  a  loud  thump  told  the 
captain  that  a  second  slingful  had  reached  the  deck. 

All  day  long  the  lumber  piled  up  on  the  long  deck  of 
the  schooner,  at  first  in  some  order,  owing  to  the  agility 


NEIGHBORS  167 

and  angry  industry  of  the  two  mates,  then  in  a  disorder 
that  reached  ten  feet  up  the  mainmast,  overflowed  the 
little  half  deck,  and  generally  made  the  neat  8uisun 
look  like  the  slab-pile  from  the  mill.  Watson  at  various 
times  surveyed  it  without  remark  and,  to  the  somewhat 
acrid  comments  of  the  mill  manager,  made  the  single 
reply  that  Talbot  &  Co.  had  contracted  to  deliver  so 
many  feet  of  lumber  to  San  Pedro  in  good  order  and 
that  it  was  nobody's  business  how  it  was  done.  "  Finish 
us  up  to-night,"  he  concluded. 

So  at  sundown  they  hung  big  lusters  along  the  wharf's 
edge  and  the  slings  of  lumber  still  swung  down  upon  the 
unwieldy  mass  on  deck.  At  midnight  Watson  went 
ashore  and  receipted  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
feet,  and  the  crew,  retiring  to  their  quarters,  puffed 
quiet  pipes  and  nodded  to  each  other.  "  He  '11  try  and 
make  us  restow  it  when  we  're  out  of  the  river,"  said 
Smith,  wiping  his  mustache  with  a  huge  hand. 

"  And  we'll  ask  for  time  and  a  half,"  Oleson  added, 
with  a  wag  of  his  flaxen  head. 

"And  he  won't  give  it,"  Smith  went  on.  "He'll 
find  himself  at  sea  with  his  decks  in  awful  shape.  He  '11 
have  to  give  in.  He  dassent  run  her  down  with  this 
stuff  in  such  shape.  We  '11  see." 

"  I  live  next  door  to  him  in  'Frisco,"  Higgins  said 
irrelevantly.  "  My  wife  knows  his  wife." 

"  I  rec'lect  when  I  never  had  a  home,  and  the  old 
woman  used  to  live  in  one  room,  and  when  I  was  gone 
pretty  long  she  'd  have  to  go  down  to  the  office  and  sit 
around  two  hours  to  beg  five  dollars  advance  out  of  my 


168    ACROSS    THE   LATITUDES 

wages  to  buy  grub  with,"  Smith  ruminated.  "  Them 
days  I  got  twenty-six  dollars  a  month  and  all  days  in 
port  mostly  docked.  Then  the  union  came,  and  last 
month  I  drew  down  eighty-seven  dollars.  It  went  into 
the  bank." 

Oleson  suddenly  laughed  loudly.  "  I  put  one  hundred 
and  twenty  dollars  in  the  savings-bank  last  month,"  he 
said,  opening  his  mouth  in  a  vast  grin.  "  And  my  girl 
is  in  school." 

From  the  shadows  of  the  fo'c's'le  came  another  voice, 
full  and  powerful.  "  And  the  companies  are  trying  to 
break  up  the  union,"  it  announced.  "  Watson  thinks 
we  're  goin'  to  knuckle  under  to  him  when  this  hooker 
gets  to  sea.  Wha  'd  they  think  we  are,  anyway  ?  Ain't 
we  got  sense  ?  " 

"  I  live  next  door  to  Watson  in  the  city,"  Higgins 
repeated  meditatively.  "  He  's  building  a  new  house 
out  in  Sunset  addition.  That 's  where  all  his  money 
goes,  his  old  woman  told  mine.  He  's  a  neighbor  o'  mine. 
But,  of  course,  he  's  run  up  against  the  union  this  time. 
They- say  he's  a  hard  man." 

They  considered  this  solemnly,  gazing  out  over  the 
inconglomerate  lumber  to  the  wet  stars  above  the  hill, 
thinking  of  all  the  ships  they  had  known,  of  the  hard 
skippers,  the  bucko  mates,  the  cruel  sea,  the  centuries 
of  sailors  who  had  starved  and  toiled  and  died  un 
rewarded  and  unfriended  and  homeless.  And  from 
one  and  then  another  came  the  muttered  words,  "  the 
union,"  as  they  climbed  into  their  bunks  and  turned 
their  stern  faces  to  the  dingy  planks  above  them. 


NEIGHBORS  169 

One  day  sufficed  to  get  the  Suisun  into  Astoria  and 
cleared  for  San  Pedro.  A  tug  swept  alongside  and 
passed  a  hawser,  the  mate  left  the  forecastle  head  and 
climbed  back  to  the  poop  over  the  unkempt  deck  load. 
The  schooner  headed  round  against  the  flood  tide  and 
for  the  open  sea. 

While  the  bar  threatened  them  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  Watson  watched  the  lumber  on  deck  and  imper 
ceptibly  shook  his  head.  His  clear  eyes  met  the  mate's. 
"  It  won't  last  long,"  he  remarked.  But  they  finally 
got  across  without  mishap  and  out  upon  the  long,  sullen 
rollers  of  the  Pacific.  The  tug  cast  off,  rounded  to, 
whistled  farewell  and  dived  back  into  port.  Watson 
steadied  his  vessel  on  an  easy  course  westward  while 
the  crew  set  the  topsails.  As  he  steered  he  flashed  un 
readable  glances  at  the  dull-gray  southern  sky. 

When  all  was  snug  Watson  turned  the  wheel  over  to 
the  mate  and  walked  forward  to  the  break  of  the  poop. 
Standing  there  he  called  loudly :  "  Smith !  Oleson ! 
•JTiggins !  " 

They  answered  and  struggled  aft  over  the  almost 
impassable  deck  load  till  they  stood  on  a  level  with  the 
captain.  Watson  commenced  abruptly.  "  This  deck 
load  must  be  stowed  and  lashed  shipshape,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  It 's  all  right  for  the  union  to  try  to  hold  the 
ship  up  in  port.  But  we  're  at  sea  now,  and  I  don't 
intend  to  stand  for  any  monkey  business.  You  star 
board  watch  turn  to  now  and  do  your  trick  at  it.  When 
the  port  watch  relieves  you  they  '11  bear  a  hand." 

There  followed  silence.     Oleson  spoke  up.     "  The 


170    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

union  won't  stand  for  it,"  he  said  boldly.  "  We  can't 
do  it." 

Watson's  chill  glance  rested  on  the  big  Scandinavian 
a  fraction  of  a  second.  "  You  men  understand  that  I  'm 
not  asking  you  to  load  ship.  That 's  the  business  of  the 
union  and  the  owners,  I  suppose.  I  'm  demanding  that 
you  do  your  watch  on  deck,  and  during  your  watch  do 
exactly  what  I  or  Mr.  Martin  direct  you  to  do.  If  you 
refuse  —  "  He  stopped  short. 

Oleson's  blue  eyes  met  the  captain's  steadily.  "  This 
is  a  trick,"  he  answered  firmly.  "  We  can't  stow  that 
cargo  unless  the  ship  pays  us  time  and  a  half,  same  as 
the  rules  say." 

Watson  glanced  at  the  southern  sky  a  moment  and 
then  turned  an  undaunted  face  on  the  three  men.  He 
swung  on  his  heel.  "  Mr.  Martin,"  he  said  formally, 
"  put  a  hand  at  the  wheel  and  turn  the  other  two  men 
of  your  watch  to  stowing  that  lumber.  We  '11  have  it 
overside  if  we  don't  look  sharp." 

Martin  slung  himself  across  the  little  interval  between 
poop  and  deck  load  and  cried  out  an  order.  Higgins 
clambered  aft  and  took  the  wheel,  in  response  to  it. 
Again  the  mate  yelled,  and  this  time  the  other  two  men 
shook  their  heads,  though  with  a  hint  of  respect  in  their 
attitudes.  Martin  stared  at  their  failure  to  respond  and 
bawled  once  more :  "  Clear  that  lumber  away  from  the 
pumps  and  stow  it  on  the  starboard  side." 

Smith  and  Oleson  calmly  turned  their  backs  and 
started  forward  without  a  word.  The  mate  snatched  a 
belaying  pin  from  the  rack  and  started  after  them. 


NEIGHBORS  171 

Watson  called  him  sharply  back.  "  None  of  that,  Mr. 
Martin!"  he  said  severely.  "The  men  will  come  to 
their  senses  before  long." 

"But  that  stuff  is  working  round  already,"  the  dis 
gusted  officer  grumbled.  "  And  one  good  souse  will 
skihoot  the  whole  lubberly  mixture  into  the  water." 

"  The  hands  will  come  to  their  senses  after  a  while," 
repeated  the  captain. 

Mr.  Martin  ended  his  watch  on  deck,  was  duly  relieved 
by  the  second  mate  and  went  below.  A  moment  later  he 
reappeared,  this  time  with  an  expression  of  intense  dis 
satisfaction  on  his  face.  "  D  'ye  know  what  the  ba 
rometer  is  doing  ?  "  he  demanded  of  his  junior.  "  No  ? 
Well,  it  'a  dropping  a  tenth  an  hour,  that 's  what  it 's 
doing.  And  before  long,  m'  son,  it  '11  be  blowing  like 
billy,  and  our  main  deck  is  a  clutter  of  lumber  that  'ud 
make  any  self-respecting  seafaring  man  sick  at  his 
tummy.  Oh,  this  is  a  sweet  voyage  and  a  sweet  crew !  " 
He  glowered  at  the  helmsman  and  retired  again. 

At  sundown  Watson  refused  to  acquiesce  in  the  mate's 
suggestion  that  they  take  advantage  of  the  east  wind  and 
put  south.  "  We  're  not  far  enough  off  shore,"  he  told 
him  quietly.  "  This  storm  may  break  out  of  the 
sou'west,  and  unless  we  've  got  a  good  offing  we  're  up 
against  it." 

"  We  '11  lose  our  deck  load  first  shot,"  said  the 
despairing  mate.  "  The  bulwarks  are  edging  and  start 
ing  now  when  it  sags  down  on  'em." 

Watson  stared  out  into  the  darkness.  "  See  whether 
the  crew  are  ready  to  turn  to  and  stow  it,"  he  said. 


172    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Mr.  Martin  dived  forward  and  stuck  his  head  in  at 
the  fo'c's'le  doorway.  "  Say,  you  men,  pile  out  and 
stow  that  lumber !  "  he  bellowed.  "  Wind  's  rising  and 
sea  's  getting  up !  Come !  Hustle  out  here  and  get 
busy!" 

Higgins  emerged  into  the  light  that  streamed  from 
the  big  lantern  swung  from  a  beam.  "  Will  the  ship 
pay  time  and  a  half,  sir  ? "  he  asked  civilly. 

The  mate's  fists  clenched,  but  the  sailor's  calmness 
showed  him  that  this  was  no  time  for  a  trial  of  physical 
prowess.  He  tried  to  argue.  Higgins,  reenforced  by 
Oleson,  shook  his  head.  "  The  union  won't  let  us  stow 
that  stuff  unless  we  get  time  and  a  half,"  said  Oleson. 

"  All  right !  "  yelled  the  mate  in  a  fury.  "  Don't, 
then !  Drown,  like  the  rats  you  are !  "  He  clambered 
aft,  swearing  fiercely. 

To  Watson  he  snarled :  "  Your  crew  ought  to  have 
sugar  to  eat  with  their  cake  —  I  'd  sugar  'em !  " 

"  They  still  refuse  to  work  that  stuff  ?  "  the  captain 
inquired  coolly.  "  All  right.  They  '11  come  to  their 
senses  after  a  while.  Stow  your  tops'ls,  Mr.  Martin." 

The  darkness  in  which  the  crew  worked  was  broken 
by  flashes  of  lightning  before  the  task  was  completed. 
A  squall  laid  the  poorly-laden  Suisun  far  over,  and  the 
men  cursed  roundly  as  they  scrambled  for  their  footing 
on  the  loose  lumber.  A  clatter  of  planks  and  a  yell 
came  from  where  the  cook  had  been  nearly  nipped  and 
caught  under  a  slipping  pile.  The  mate  maintained  a 
grim  silence. 

Captain  Watson  gave  no  sign  that  he  observed  his 


NEIGHBORS  173 

vessel's  plight  and  paid  no  attention,  apparently,  to  the 
constant  reports  made  by  his  officers  that  the  glass  was 
still  going  down  rapidly.  Finally  he  said :  "  One  can 
expect  a  smart  gale  from  the  sou'east'ard  this  time  of 
year.  We  '11  make  well  off  shore  and  ride  it  out  com 
fortably." 

Morning  showed  the  schooner  close  hauled  and  dip 
ping  heavily  into  a  southerly  sea  which  ran  higher  and 
higher  as  each  gust  of  the  coming  gale  whitened  the 
ocean  to  windward.  Both  watches  were  called  and  the 
men  slipped  and  stumbled  over  the  loose  lumber,  reefing, 
snugging  down  and  making  things  fast.  The  mate, 
swearing  tremendous  oaths  that  nothing  could  save  the 
schooner  from  becoming  a  total  wreck,  busied  himself 
passing  feeble  lashings  across  the  raffle.  "  This  stuff 
will  get  a  start  and  then  take  off  the  bulwarks  and  clean 
away  the  half  deck  and  cut  off  the  hatch  combings  and 
spring  the  deck  beams,  so  that  she  '11  open  up  like  an 
old  cracker  box.  One  sea  '11  do  it,  spite  of  all  the  lash 
ings  in  the  world.  Then  the  masts  will  go  out  of  her," 
he  continued,  driving  a  knot  tight  with  his  heel.  "  Then 
you  men  will  learn  your  business."  He  glared  at  them 
and  cursed  them  individually  and  collectively.  Oleson's 
big  face  slowly  flushed  till  his  anger  boiled  over.  He 
confronted  Martin.  "  It 's  the  ship's  fault,"  he  roared. 
"  The  ship  ought  to  pay  us  time  and  a  half,  or  else 
have  stowed  this  cargo  before  we  came  to  sea.  It  ain't 
the  union's  fault  if  the  owners  send  the  ship  out  in  an 
unseaworthy  condition." 

The  mate  thrust  his  savage  face  into  the  Scandi- 


174    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

navian's.  "  She  would  n't  be  unseaworthy  if  she  had 
a  crew,"  he  croaked. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  call  from  the  poop  for 
all  hands.  Martin  went  aft,  followed  by  the  men  of 
both  watches.  Watson,  in  oilskins  and  boots,  faced 
them  briskly.  "  You  men  had  better  decide  what  you 
are  going  to  do,"  he  announced.  "  The  gale  will  break 
inside  of  an  hour.  This  schooner  is  practically  helpless 
with  that  deck  load  unstowed  and  not  lashed  and  wedged. 
It  will  be  a  good  six  hours'  job,  but  we  had  better  make 
a  start  at  it  if  we  are  going  to  do  it  at  all.  Now,  will 
you  men  turn  to  under  Mr.  Martin's  direction,  or  do 
you  still  persist  in  refusing  duty  ?  " 

Oleson  was  about  to  speak  when  Watson  held  up  his 
hand.  "  I  've  heard  enough  from  you,"  he  said  coldly. 
"  This  is  a  question  for  all  of  you.  I  '11  give  you  five 
minutes  to  think  it  over.  Get  for'a'd." 

Relieving  the  man  at  the  wheel  and  ordering  him  to 
join  his  mates,  the  captain  watched  them  tumble  toward 
the  bow  of  the  schooner  and  gather  at  the  foot  of  the 
foremast.  He  could  just  see  their  shiny  sou'westers 
bobbing  above  the  yellow  lumber.  Inside  of  the  allowed 
five  minutes  Higgins  climbed  back  upon  the  deck  load 
and  started  to  scramble  aft,  the  other  five  trailing  after 
him.  Watson  turned  the  wheel  over  to  the  second  mate 
and  came  to  the  rail.  "  What  do  you  say  ? "  he 
demanded. 

Higgins  looked  up  at  him  solemnly.  "  If  the  ship 
will  pay  time  and  a  half  we  '11  stow  this  lumber,  Cap 
tain,"  he  said. 


NEIGHBORS  175 

"  The  ship  won't  pay  time  and  a  half,"  was  the  reply. 

There  was  a  silence.  Higgins  searched  the  counte 
nances  of  his  companions  and  found  nothing  thereon 
written  but  stolid  determination.  "  The  union  rules 
won't  let  us,"  he  said  hoarsely. 

"  That  will  do."     Watson  dismissed  them  calmly. 

During  the  forenoon  the  gale  broke  furiously,  and 
the  schooner,  stripped  of  most  of  her  canvas,  yielded 
slowly  to  its  violence,  burying  her  bows  stiffly  in  the 
seas  that  crashed  over  and  flooded  the  main  deck.  For 
half  an  hour  she  kept  her  course,  quivering  in  the  iron 
grip  of  the  storm,  striving,  ill-laden  and  unweatherly 
as  she  was,  to  do  her  best.  But  her  best  was  too  little. 
A  slithering  comber  threw  its  terrific  mass  against  her, 
swung  her  up  and  high  to  leeward.  As  she  rose,  Martin 
shrieked  a  command  and  dashed  down  on  the  deck  load, 
waving  furious  arms  toward  the  foresheet,  which  was 
parting  under  the  strain,  as  his  quick  eye  had  seen.  The 
men  swarmed  after  him,  balancing  themselves  on  the 
teetering  planks.  Then  the  Suisun  was  flung  on  her 
beam-ends,  a  second  sea  poured  over  the  weather  bul 
warks,  the  foresheet  parted  with  a  bang,  and  the  whole 
deck  load  sagged  bodily  to  leeward.  Some  plank  on 
which  the  mate  stood  sprung  up,  and  he  seemed  to 
dive  headlong  into  the  sea,  describing  a  short,  swift 
arc.  As  the  schooner  recovered  herself  and  lurched  to 
windward  Watson  saw  the  tangled  wreckage  blow  to 
leeward,  but  he  discerned  no  human  figure  amid  it. 
There  was  a  jagged  break  in  the  bulwarks. 

Under  his  booming  orders  they  hove  her  to,  stripped 


176    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

to  the  barest  rag  that  would  keep  her  to  her  position. 
When  they  were  done,  it  needed  no  cursing  second  mate 
to  inform  the  crew  that,  unless  the  deck  cargo  were 
promptly  swept  overboard  or  securely  lashed,  the  life 
of  the  Suisun  would  be  short.  Buoyant  as  she  was,  her 
terrific  surges  and  wild  dives  threatened  any  moment 
to  plunge  her  decks  under  or  to  snap  the  masts  out  of 
her.  A  constant  flood  of  water  raced  across  the  deck 
and  foamed  out  from  under  the  mass  of  lumber  in 
which  the  great  planks  and  heavy  timbers  heaved  and 
slipped  to  every  roll.  The  weak  lashings  the  mate 
had  passed  over  it  gave  one  by  one,  merely  prolong 
ing  the  agony  and  further  endangering  the  vessel. 
Watson  called  the  crew  to  the  binnacle  and  put  the  grim 
question  once  more :  "  Will  you  turn  to  and  stow  that 
lumber  ? " 

This  time  it  was  Smith  who  promptly  replied :  "  The 
union  rules  say  we  must  have  time  and  a  half,  sir." 

Watson's  rain-swept  face  assumed  a  cold  imperious- 
ness.  "  You  men  know  what  you  are  doing  ?  " 

"  The  ship  won't  pay  time  and  a  half  ? "  Smith 
demanded. 

The  captain  shook  his  head.  With  one  accord  the 
men  shook  their  heads  and  withdrew  to  the  rail,  then 
started  to  make  their  way  forward.  For  the  moment 
the  schooner  was  riding  more  easily,  and  the  first  two 
leaped  down  on  the  lumber  and  ran  briskly  to  the  main 
mast.  But  here  they  lost  their  footing.  A  sousing 
sea  swept  them  overside  amid  a  raffle  of  broken  planks, 
upended  timbers  and  tumbling  bundles  of  lath.  As 


NEIGHBORS  177 

they  bobbed  to  leeward  Watson  flung  a  useless  life-buoy 
toward  them,  hurling  the  rope's  end  after  it.  Then  he 
leaped  to  the  main-deck  ladder  and  caught  Oleson's 
arm  as  that  struggling  man  dragged  himself  painfully 
to  safety.  Together  they  fished  out  Higgins  and  Smith. 
The  second  mate  made  his  way  to  them  and  bawled  in 
Watson's  ear :  "  Cut  away  the  lashings  and  let  the  rest 
of  the  deck  load  go,  sir  ?  " 

The  three  able  seamen,  balancing  themselves  against 
the  force  of  the  screaming  wind,  listened  for  the  answer 
that  might  mean  a  solution  of  their  great,  insoluble 
problem.  Possibly  Watson  had  a  sense  of  their  anxiety 
and  hoped  that  if  he  maintained  his  stubborn  demeanor 
they  might  finally  acknowledge  themselves  beaten.  Pos 
sibly  he  merely  refused  this  last  chance  to  compromise. 
He  waved  his  hand  in  definite  negation,  drew  his  sou' 
wester  more  closely  about  his  head  and  took  his  stand 
once  more  to  windward,  whence  he  composedly  watched 
the  wild  leapings  and  sickening  plunges  of  his  laboring 
vessel. 

Nightfall  brought  no  surcease.  The  shivering  cook 
served  them  with  what  cold  victuals  he  could  find  in 
the  cabin  pantry,  his  galley  being  now  inaccessible. 
Master,  mate  and  men  ate  silently  and  hastily  to  the 
thump  of  the  rudder-head  pounding  beneath  them. 
When  they  had  wiped  their  mouths,  Watson  addressed 
his  crew.  "  This  gale  is  n't  well  started  yet,"  he  told 
them  simply.  "  The  glass  is  still  going  down.  There  7s 
a  bare  chance  to  save  this  vessel  if  you  stow  that  — 
what 's  left  of  the  deck  load." 


178    ACROSS  THE    LATITUDES 

The  men  met  his  steady  eyes  as  steadily,  shaking 
their  heads.  They  knew,  as  he  did  —  and  they  knew 
he  wasn't  mistaken  about  their  knowledge  —  that  to 
attempt  to  make  fast  the  slipping,  sliding  mass  of  lum 
ber  on  deck  meant  certain  death  for  somebody  —  or  all. 
But,  being  seamen  of  tried  worth,  they  refused  to  con 
sider  that.  "  We  '11  do  it  if  the  ship  '11  pay  us  time 
and  a  half,"  they  croaked. 

A  frosty  gleam  of  admiration  lit  Watson's  eyes  as 
he  shook  his  head,  and  that  gleam  did  not  die  till  the 
last  man  had  filed  out,  leaving  him  swaying  to  the  roll 
of  the  deck,  sipping  cold  coffee  out  of  a  tin  cup  in  a 
composed  manner. 

So,  little  by  little,  the  storm  wrought  out  unhindered 
its  furious  will.  The  dark,  devouring  seas  took  the 
lumber  ton  by  ton.  The  lashings  parted  to  the  last 
strand.  The  bulwarks  were  slowly  bitten  away.  The 
shrouds  sang  and  shrieked  to  the  impact  of  heavy 
masses  flung  against  them  by  rushing  waves.  Suddenly 
the  foremast  went  over  the  side  and  with  it  the  head 
gear.  As  though  satisfied,  the  gale  yielded  suddenly, 
and  the  Suisun  was  left  leaping  wildly  to  the  rise  and 
surge  of  the  sea.  The  weary  men  made  their  perilous 
way  forward  and  cut  clear  the  fallen  stays  that  held 
the  foremast  up  under  the  bows,  where  it  beat  trip 
hammer  blows  on  the  planks  -of  the  hull.  This  done, 
with  wild  swinging  of  axes  in  the  darkness,  Watson 
set  them  to  trying  to  put  tackles  on  the  booms  which 
were  threshing  across  the  deck  load  with  deadly  violence. 
But  the  wind  piped  up  out  of  the  west  before  the  task 


NEIGHBORS  179 

was  well  begun,  and  the  schooner  heeled  far  over  to 
hard,  vicious  squalls.  They  sought  the  poop  again  and 
no  sooner  had  regained  it  than  a  comber  swept  the  deck 
from  fo'c's'le  head  to  after  cabin,  and  with  its  thunder 
ing  passage  went  the  rest  of  the  deck  load,  deck  house, 
pumps  and  the  lee  main  shrouds.  The  mainmast  broke 
off  a  few  feet  above  the  deck,  the  mizzen  lurched  after 
it,  and  the  Suisun,  wholly  unmanageable,  wallowed  high 
in  the  careering  seas,  a  wreck.  Her  master,  mate  and 
the  four  remaining  men  of  the  crew  huddled  by  the 
wheel  and  waited  for  the  end. 

For  some  time  the  buoyancy  of  the  dismantled  craft 
saved  her  from  being  heavily  swept,  though  sea  after 
sea  broke  in  spume  across  her  hulk.  Then  a  flying  spar 
was  flung  from  the  windward  darkness  across  the  poop. 
In  its  passage  it  took  the  second  mate,  Oleson,  Smith 
and  the  helmsman.  Dragging  a  broken  leg,  Higgins 
clawed  his  choking  way  to  the  crushed  wheelbox  and 
yelled  at  the  figure  clinging  to  the  stump  of  the  wheel- 
pillar  :  "  Smith !  Oleson !  "  The  cook,  lugging  a  huge 
lantern,  burst  out  of  the  cabin  and  staggered  across  the 
tilted  quarterdeck,  crying  shrilly  into  the  night.  For 
one  instant  Higgins  saw  the  pallid  face  of  the  captain 
framed  in  the  swirling  darkness,  then  the  light  vanished 
before  a  swooping  wave  which  smothered  the  cook's  last 
cry.  Higgins  caught  a  rope's  end  and  passed  it  round 
the  captain  and  the  pillar,  afterward  lashing  himself. 
Watson  nodded  and  said  in  a  strong  voice,  "  Smashed 
a  rib,  I  think." 

As  day  approached  the  schooner's  stout  frame  com- 


180    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

menced  to  give.  She  filled,  and  as  her  sides  sank  deeper 
into  the  water  the  sea,  though  falling,  made  a  clean 
breach  across  her  main  deck,  and  even  the  poop  was 
continually  washed  by  broken  water.  Dawn  came,  a 
gray,  spumy  light  that  made  plain  the  wallowing  hulk 
to  the  two  men  straining  to  hang  to  their  little  refuge. 
And  with  the  light  the  wind  veered  into  the  northwest 
and  blew  shrilly  and  bitterly,  laden  with  sleet,  armed 
with  the  steel  of  driving  hail.  Watson,  without  a  word, 
extricated  himself  feebly  from  his  lashings  and  crawled 
to  the  smashed  skylight.  Higgins,  watching  him  with 
dull  eyes,  knew  from  the  expression  on  the  captain's 
face  that  all  below  was  awash  and  that  neither  food 
nor  water  nor  warmth  was  to  be  theirs.  He  cleared  his 
eyes  and  peered  forward. 

The  schooner's  bows  rose  like  a  ragged  island,  un 
approachable  except  over  the  broken  deck  that  now  and 
then  emerged  from  the  foam  to  display  gaping  hatches 
and  splintered  planking.  He  could  see  that  one  of  the 
anchors  was  still  there,  safe  in  its  lashings.  Higgins 
threw  off  the  rope  and  dragged  his  stiffened  body  for 
ward.  Watson  turned  his  head  and  saw  him.  "  You 
and  I  are  the  only  ones  left,"  he  said. 

"  The  rest  of  the  boys  are  gone  —  with  the  deck 
load,"  Higgins  returned  huskily.  "  I  thought  I  'd  get 
for' ad  and  cast  off  that  bower,  sir.  It  might  make 
her  ride  easier."  He  made  a  wild  clutch  at  a  handhold 
as  a  sea  creamed  over  the  rail. 

Watson's  blue  eyes  gleamed  slightly.  "  Your  leg 
broken?  You  can't  make  it,  Higgins.  Nobody  could 


NEIGHBORS  181 

get  along  that  main  deck  now.  We  '11  stay  here.  The 
sea  is  going  down."  He  rose  painfully  to  his  feet, 
picked  up  the  rope  and  made  it  fast  around  the  helpless 
seaman.  Then  he  sat  down  beside  him,  breathing 
harshly  into  his  crushed  chest,  his  booted  feet  waggling 
in  front  of  him  to  the  send  of  the  deck.  So  they  waited 
while  the  gray  light  grew  into  white  and  a  rift  of  blue 
appeared  in  the  north.  Then  Higgins  stirred.  His 
pallid  face  was  set  in  stern  lines.  His  hand,  swollen 
by  salt  water,  went  out,  and  he  touched  his  commander 
on  the  knee.  "  Is  there  any  chance  for  us,  sir  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  chance,"  was  the  calm  reply.  Then 
Watson  went  on :  "  We  can't  be  more  than  thirty  miles 
off  shore.  If  this  wind  holds  we  '11  be  ashore  by  to 
night  —  on  the  rocks  to  the  south'ard  of  Tillamook." 

"  She 's  not  drifting  very  fast,"  the  seaman  said 
presently.  "  And  if  we  could  get  that  anchor  overside 
and  pay  out  the  cable  it  would  keep  her  head  to  the 
sea  and  bring  her  up  when  she  got  into  shallow  water." 

Watson  shook  his  head.  "  There  's  time  enough  for 
that,"  he  remarked,  staring  into  the  cold  sky. 

In  the  afternoon  Higgins  drew  himself  closer  to  the 
pillar.  "  My  wife  knows  your  wife  in  'Frisco,"  he  said 
thickly.  "  I  live  next  door  to  you." 

Watson  nodded.  "  I  know  it,"  he  croaked.  "  We  're 
neighbors.  My  wife  got  a  recipe  for  cookies  from  Mrs. 
Higgins  last  time  I  was  in  port.  .  .  .  Good  cookies  .  .  . 
good  neighbor  .  .  .  sorry  to  move  away  .  .  .  we  've  a 
little  place  out  in  Sunset." 

Higgins  considered  this,  working  his  swollen  lips. 


182    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  My  old  woman  won't  starve,"  he  said  presently. 
"  We  've  got  a  little  in  the  bank  .  .  .  the  union  will 
look  out  for  her  .  .  .  the  union,  you  know  .  .  ." 

Watson's  white  face  suddenly  flushed  and  he  broke 
out,  repressing  his  agony,  "  I  know.  The  union  is  all 
right  for  you  boys  ...  we  're  on  different  sides.  Tal- 
bot  has  always  been  square  with  me  ...  he  '11  see  that 
the  wife  don't  suffer  .  .  .  good  man,  always  treated  me 
white  .  .  ." 

They  were  silent. 

As  the  ruddy  sunset  lit  up  the  waste  of  water  they 
both  twisted  their  chilled  limbs  into  easier  positions  and 
Higgins  offered  the  skipper  some  of  the  sodden  tobacco 
from  his  pocket.  "  Can't  smoke  abaft  the  foremast,  sir," 
he  said,  with  pale  humor.  "  But  we  can  chew." 

Watson  smiled  a  wintry  smile  and  accepted  the  gift. 
"  About  that  deck  load,"  he  said  abruptly.  "  The  ship 
could  not  give  time  and  a  half." 

It  was  simply  said,  a  statement  of  fact,  without  hint 
of  apology  or  contrition.  As  such  Higgins  received  it, 
meeting  his  old  superior's  eyes  with  frankness.  "  The 
union  won't  give  an  inch,"  he  retorted.  And  without 
further  words  they  settled  down  to  the  long  night. 

The  northwester  blew  itself  out  to  a  gentle  breeze. 
Higgins  slept,  his  broken  limb  curled  grotesquely  out 
from  his  body,  his  stertorous  breathing  rising  and  fall 
ing,  it  seemed,  to  the  slow  surge  of  the  wreck.  But 
Watson,  kneeling  on  the  little  deck,  gasping  for  each 
painful  breath,  one  arm  around  the  broken  pillar,  peered 
open-eyed  into  the  darkness  to  the  east.  Once  or  twice 


NEIGHBORS  183 

he  brushed  the  spray  out  of  his  eyes  and  strained  his 
vision  to  catch  something  on  the  horizon.  At  last  he 
exhaled  chokingly.  "  Yaquina  Head  light,"  he  mut 
tered.  "  Due  east.  We  are  n't  over  ten  miles  off  it." 
He  figured  in  silence  and  then  said,  aloud :  "  She  '11  go 
ashore  on  the  beach  near  the  Siletz  —  maybe.  There  's 
a  chance,  if  I  can  get  that  anchor  over." 

His  mind  worked  rapidly.  To  get  forward  was,  even 
now  that  the  sea  was  smooth,  a  task  of  peril  for  an 
active  man.  For  him,  bruised  and  crushed,  it  held  im 
possibilities.  "  But,"  he  thought,  "  if  I  don't  we  shall 
go  ashore  in  the  surf  and  both  of  us  will  be  drowned. 
Nobody  will  know  why  the  Suisun  was  lost.  Talbot 
may  not  know  that  I  obeyed  orders.  All  this  may  have 
to  be  done  over  again.  He  won't  see  that  Mary  does  n't 
suffer."  He  looked  at  Higgins  a  while  and  his  face 
assumed  an  expression  of  interest.  "  Mary  says  the 
Higginses  are  good  neighbors,"  he  went  on,  formulating 
his  thoughts  more  slowly.  "  And  he  's  a  good  man.  He 
and  I  have  done  our  best.  He  's  stuck  to  the  union  and 
I  Ve  stuck  to  owners.  We  're  neighbors.  It  is  n't 
rightly  any  quarrel  between  us.  And  he  '11  tell  it 
straight.  .  .  .  His  wife  knows  Mary,  and  that  '11  make 
it  better,  so  if  I  don't  get  ashore  alive,  maybe  he  '11  do 
the  neighborly  thing."  He  awakened  Higgins  and  said: 
"  There  's  a  light  showing  inshore.  It 's  Yaquina  Head. 
The  wreck  '11  drift  into  the  surf.  If  you  get  off  all 
right  just  tell  your  wife  to  tell  my  wife  that  I  did  my 
best  and  that  I  stuck  by  the  ship.  .  .  .  Don't  tell  her 
the  ship  could  n't  pay  time  and  a  half  .  .  .  she  and 


184    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

your  wife  are  neighbors  .  .  .  women  don't  understand 
.  .  .  you  see,  the  ship  couldn't  pay  time  and  a  half 
.  .  .  well  .  .  ." 

Higgins  nodded,  shivering  in  the  chill.  "  And  the 
union  would  n't  give  an  inch,"  he  proclaimed.  "  If  you 
get  ashore  and  I  don't,  sir,  just  tell  the  boys  we  stuck 
to  the  union  .  .  .  tell  my  old  woman  .  .  .  she  '11  under 
stand  that  much  .  .  .  and  if  Mrs.  Watson  could 
just  —  " 

"  I  reckon  Mrs.  Watson  will  do  the  neighborly  thing," 
the  captain  answered  harshly.  Higgins  drowsed  off 
feverishly. 

With  great  exertion  Watson  added  his  own  lashing 
to  that  about  the  sleeping  sailor.  Then  he  rose  on  un 
steady  legs  and  reeled  to  the  break  of  the  poop.  Here 
he  swayed,  clinging  to  a  bit  of  rail,  and  gazed  search- 
ingly  into  the  shadows  below  him.  When  he  had  got 
his  numbed  limbs  slightly  warmed  he  let  himself  down 
till  his  feet  touched  the  main  deck,  jerked  his  arm  clear 
and  turned  and  lurched  forward,  stumbling  over  the 
broken  planks,  clinging  desperately  now  and  again  to 
some  stable  bit  of  wreckage  while  a  wave  threshed 
around  his  waist,  and  so  he  struggled  on  toward  the 
fo'c's'le  head.  He  made  it,  throwing  himself  up  the 
ladder  just  in  time  to  escape  a  sea  that  almost  tore 
him  from  his  precarious  hold.  A  moment  more  and  he 
was  on  the  little  deck,  clawing  his  way  over  the  raffle 
of  twisted  and  useless  gear  to  the  big  anchor.  A  wafer 
of  moon  showed  through  the  drifting  clouds  to  light 
him  to  his  final  stopping  place.  With  infinite  pains  he 


NEIGHBORS  185 

managed  to  get  his  big  knife  out  of  his  pocket.  With 
it  he  hacked  at  the  lashings. 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  worked  pretty  steadily, 
stopping  now  and  then  to  lay  his  chilled  hands  on  his 
bruised  chest  to  limber  the  fingers.  The  huge  anchor 
was  partially  loosened  and  worked  slightly  to  the  pitch 
of  the  hulk.  He  ceased  and  crawled  to  the  windlass 
and  knocked  out  the  stoppers.  Then  he  went  back  to 
the  anchor.  To  get  at  the  last  ropes  that  held  it  in 
the  chocks  he  must  crawl  to  the  edge  of  the  deck  and, 
he  perceived,  when  that  lashing  was  cut,  the  anchor 
in  its  plunge  must  inevitably  drag  him  with  it  into  the 
sea.  He  stared  back  into  the  shadows  where  Higgins, 
invisible,  lay  snoring  and  unconscious.  "  One  of  us  or 
both,"  the  captain  thought  calmly.  The  sailor's  grim 
words  came  back  to  his  ear :  "  The  union  ain't  givin' 
an  inch."  All  the  firmness  and  resolution  of  the  man's 
strong  nature  came  forward.  He  shook  his  head 
fiercely.  "  Five  of  'em  went,  not  giving  an  inch.  It 
was  the  smartest  crew  that  ever  shipped  with  me. 
They  're  gone,  but  I  'm  still  here  and  still  master. 
They  would  n't  give  an  inch.  .  .  .  Here  's  another !  " 
He  dragged  himself  across  the  cold  bulk  of  the  anchor 
and,  half  clinging  to  the  broken  rail,  half  clutching 
at  the  slippery  deck,  he  did  his  final  duty,  feeling  at 
each  roll  of  the  wreck  the  great,  overpowering,  sullen 
thrust  of  the  ton  mass  of  iron. 

Higgins  was  roused  from  his  troubled  sleep  by  a  roar 
of  steel  links  tearing  through  the  hawsehole.  He  sat 
up  and  saw  a  shower  of  red  sparks  shoot  into  the  dark- 


186    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

ness  far  forward.  As  he  watched,  the  great  anchor 
reached  the  end  of  its  cable  and  brought  up  short,  send 
ing  great  vibrations  through  the  waterlogged  hulk.  He 
stared  into  the  blackness  and  yelled,  "  Captain !  Cap 
tain  !  Captain !  "  There  was  no  answer. 

The  wreck  of  the  8uisun,  now  tumbling  within  sound 
ings,  brought  up  slowly,  as  the  anchor  dragged,  and 
settled  with  her  head  to  the  seas.  The  bright  light 
on  Yaquina  Head  shone  from  the  invisible  shore. 
Higgins'  experienced  senses  caught  the  significance  of 
the  changed  motion  of  the  hulk  and  he  ceased  to  cry 
out.  "  Him  and  me  was  neighbors,"  he  muttered. 
"  My  wife  knew  his  wife  .  .  .  the  ship  could  n't  pay 
time  and  a  half  .  .  .  the  union  would  n't  give  an  inch 
.  .  .  why  — "  In  the  light  of  death  he  sternly  con 
sidered  the  problem  of  life. 


THE   SCHOONER  MARY  E.  FOSTER: 
GUARDIAN 

THE  AGENT  of  Lloyd's  Intelligence  Department,  the 
detective  bureau  of  the  world's  sea  police,  listened  to 
the  smoking-room  gossip  of  the  wreck  of  the  Hester 
Fox  with  occasional  knowing  nods.  When  the  captain 
had  finished  his  story  the  agent  lit  his  pipe  and  seemed 
on  the  point  of  drowsing  off  when  the  purser  mentioned 
the  name  "  Mary  Foster." 

I  have  totally  forgotten  what  the  connection  was, 
what  the  talk  about  it  was  and  the  conclusion  of  it, 
but  I  sha'n't  soon  forget  the  interest  of  the  Lloyd's 
man,  who  finally  asked  me  to  his  own  cabin  to  chat. 
It  was  the  beginning  of  my  acquaintance  with  the  most 
remarkable  and  secretive  department  of  police  and 
of  my  friendship  with  Samuel  Garfinkle,  one  of  its 
shrewdest  agents.  Garfinkle  told  me,  in  the  course  of 
time,  the  inside  of  many  strange  affairs.  He  was  an 
indefatigable  investigator;  the  most  indomitable  col 
lector  of  facts  I  ever  knew. 

"  Sonny,  me  lad,"  he  would  say  when  I  gaped  at  his 
sureness  of  assertion,  "  the  big  seas  are  no  place  not 
to  know  your  facts.  There  's  no  policeman  on  every 
corner  and  no  court  across  the  way  to  settle  a  thing 
while  it 's  warm.  I  Ve  got  the  rascals  from  Tristan 


188    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

D'Acunha  to  the  Runn  of  Kutch  to  watch,  and  I  've 
only  got  facts  to  go  on  —  facts  picked  up  on  steamers 
like  this,  hunted  down  in  public  houses  in  New  Zealand, 
caught  out  of  the  ruck  of  people  on  the  bund  in 
Shanghai,  sucked  out  of  the  whirlpools  of  London  and 
Hongkong  and  New  York.  Facts,  me  lad,  facts,  facts 
and  nothing  but  facts.  Two  facts,  ten  thousand  miles 
apart  and  ten  years  distant  have  saved  my  people  a 
hundred  thousand  pounds." 

"  But  you  must  use  your  imagination  a  lot,  too,"  I 
insisted. 

"  Imagination  is  only  one  form  of  belief,"  said 
Garfinkle.  "  You  can't  make  up  what  never  was  nor 
can  be.  You  say  you  imagine  it;  that  means  you 
would  believe  a  man  who  told  you  just  that  thing  as 
a  fact.  For  instance,  I  could  tell  you  where  three  men 
imagined  something  and  it  was  a  fact  for  ten  years. 
It  cost  Lloyds  ten  thousand  pounds  to  find  out  that  it 
was  n't  a  fact ;  and  when  they  found  it  out,  and  I  told 
them  it  was  all  a  falsehood,  they  had  paid  the  insurance 
money  just  the  same  as  though  it  were  a  fact,  and  that 
made  it  a  fact,  which  it  never  was  and  never  will  be 
—  though  it  is,  now." 

"  Go  'way,"  I  said  flippantly. 

Garfinkle  never  liked  to  be  treated  lightly.  He 
seemed  to  think  that  he  should  be  respected,  if  only 
for  what  he  contained  —  a  remarkable  collection  of 
facts.  So  now,  after  going  to  the  trouble  of  allowing 
me  to  bring  him  to  a  point,  he  insisted  on  proper 
demeanor.  He  lifted  one  eyebrow  gently  and  said, 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       189 

"  Then  you  never  heard  the  true  story  of  the  schooner 
Mary  E.  Foster,  Guardeen  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  replied. 

"  It  was  that  that  was  in  my  mind  when  I  made 
the  remarks  you  have  just  sneered  at.  Of  course,  if 
you  don't  know  anything  about  the  case,  you  couldn't 
be  expected  to  understand  a  plain  statement." 

I  humbled  myself  at  that  moment  and  have  rejoiced 
ever  since.  In  all  my  later  profitable  acquaintance 
with  Garfinkle  I  do  not  believe  I  ever  heard  him  tell 
of  a  matter  that  so  completely  explained  his  prodigious 
activity  in  the  search  for  the  ultimate  fact;  a  search 
most  wonderful  and  exacting  in  view  of  the  bigness 
of  the  world  and  the  unbridled  passions  that  plot  and 
play  upon  its  far-spread  seas. 

You  will  understand  (Garfinkle  began,  pulling  out 
of  a  fat  wallet  five  newspaper  clippings  and  spreading 
them  upon  his  knee)  that  this  is  not  the  story  of  the 
Mary  E.  Foster,  Guardeen,  until  the  very  last.  In  the 
beginning  it  was  simply  the  story  of  the  American 
schooner  Mary  E.  Foster,  of  San  Francisco,  450  tons 
register;  James  Foster,  master.  Her  history,  like  that 
of  all  other  craft  that  carry  a  flag,  was  told  in  the 
marine  columns  of  the  newspapers  under  "  Arrivals 
and  Departures." 

It  was  sixteen  years  ago,  while  I  was  down  in  the 
West  Indies  looking  into  the  wreck  of  the  Norwegian 
steamer  Ilda,  that  I  was  called  to  Kingston  and  told 
to  cross  the  isthmus,  hurry  to  San  Francisco  and  settle 


190    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

up  the  matter  of  the  insurance  on  the  hull  and  cargo 
of  the  schooner  Mary  E.  Foster,  which  had  been  lost 
on  a  passage  from  Honolulu  to  Astoria.  Remember, 
I  had  never  heard  of  the  schooner  before  and  all  I 
knew  was  that  too  many  American  schooners  were  being 
lost  in  the  Pacific  and  our  department  was  beginning 
to  take  note  of  them  all.  It  is  a  fact  that  this  loss 
was  a  perfectly  simple  one  and  my  going  personally  to 
examine  it  was  merely  a  matter  of  formality. 

Now  when  I  left  Kingston  for  Colon  on  a  Royal 
Mail  steamer  I  took  with  me  this  clipping. 

(He  laid  the  first  slip  of  printed  paper  in  my  palm.) 
You  observe  it  is  from  the  marine  columns  of  the 
New  York  "  Herald  "  and  reads : 

The  Oceanic  steamship  Mariposa,  arrived  in  San  Francisco 
yesterday  from  Tahiti,  reports  picking  up  small  boat  and  three 
of  the  crew  of  the  schooner  Mary  E.  Foster  which  foundered 
300  miles  east  of  Koke  Head  on  June  12.  The  Foster  was  laden 
with  shell  valued  at  $115,000  and  sailed  from  Honolulu  June  1, 
meeting  with  good  weather  till  the  morning  of  June  2,  when 
she  was  caught  in  a  squall  and  thrown  on  her  beam  ends. 
The  survivors  state  that  the  vessel  sank  very  suddenly  the 
next  day  in  a  heavy  sea.  Captain  Foster  and  the  rest  of  the 
crew  were  drowned. 

Sounds  plain  enough,  does  n't  it  ?  It  certainly 
sounded  all  right  to  me,  and  I  walked  into  the  office 
in  San  Francisco  a  month  later  ready  for  the  simplest 
kind  of  an  examination  into  the  items  of  the  manifest 
and  the  particulars  of  the  wreck.  On  the  table  in  the 
office  was  an  old  "  List,"  and  I  picked  it  up  and  turned 
to  the  name  "Foster,"  as  a  man  will  in  the  way  of 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       191 

business.  There  I  found  the  schooner,  all  right,  and 
it  was  only  a  sort  of  mental  memorandum  I  made  that 
she  was  marked  "  Dismantled  "  —  it  was  the  1889 
"  List,"  and  two  years  old.  A  vessel,  as  you  know, 
sonny,  me  lad,  is  often  laid  up  and  then  afterwards 
refitted  for  a  new  series  of  voyages.  But  it  stuck  in 
my  mind  that  she  was  laid  up  in  Oakland  Creek. 

Then  I  went  to  business,  which  was  comprised '  in 
the  depositions  under  oath  of  Thomas  Richards,  A.B., 
Henry  Hoke,  A.B.,  and  Passiah  Mint,  cook,  picked  up 
at  sea,  June  16th,  1891,  while  adrift  in  a  small  boat, 
by  the  steamer  Mariposa.  They  all  told  the  same  story, 
which  was  that  the  Mary  E.  Foster,  laden  with  shell 
from  the  Paumotus,  had  put  into  Honolulu  for  sup 
plies  and  they  had  joined  her  there  for  the  voyage  to 
Astoria.  Owing  to  the  smell  of  the  rotting  shell,  there 
had  been  considerable  trouble  with  the  crew,  but  nothing 
to  amount  to  anything  until  the  night  of  June  llth, 
when  a  squall  struck  the  schooner  during  an  altercation 
between  Captain  Foster  and  the  man  at  the  wheel.  The 
schooner,  being  broad  on  the  wind  with  her  topsails 
set,  heeled  over  on  her  beam  ends.  The  cargo  shifted 
and  she  did  not  recover  herself.  They  passed  the  night 
working  in  the  rotten  shell,  trying  to  right  her,  but  in 
the  heavy  sea  could  do  nothing.  On  June  12th,  by 
these  fellows'  stories,  the  Mary  E.  Foster  suddenly  sank 
and  they  barely  escaped  in  a  small  boat.  They  did 
did  not  know  what  had  become  of  the  captain  and  the 
rest  of  the  crew. 

Then  I  went  to  see  the  owner  of  the  schooner.     I 


192    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

found  him  at  the  "  Bowhead."  He  was  a  big,  heavy- 
handed  sailorman,  one  of  those  chaps  that  take  shore 
life  as  a  solemn  luxury.  He  showed  me  his  papers 
and  a  copy  of  the  manifest  signed  by  the  American 
consul  at  Suva.  He  proved  easily  enough  that  his 
schooner  was  worth  $25,000  and  the  cargo  was  worth 
probably  double  the  insurance  on  it  —  which  was 
$50,000.  The  only  peculiar  thing  about  him  was  that 
he  was  the  sole  owner  of  the  schooner,  whereas  on  the 
Pacific  coast  a  captain  is  always  supposed  to  own  a 
"  piece  "  of  the  schooner  he  commands.  I  asked  the 
owner  about  it  and  he  told  me  Captain  Foster  had  sold 
him  his  interest  that  voyage.  "  The  skipper  needed  the 
money  to  send  his  daughter  to  school  with,"  I  remember 
was  part  of  the  explanation. 

You  observe  how  regular  it  all  was:  the  vessel  in 
Lloyd's  "  List,"  mentioned  in  the  newspapers,  a  bona- 
fide  owner,  all  the  papers  correct,  the  loss  authenticated 
by  three  seamen  picked  up  by  a  mail  steamer  in  mid- 
ocean.  Of  course  the  insurance  companies  paid  the 
$75,000  when  the  Mary  E.  Foster  came  to  her  last 
Wednesday  of  life  and  was  posted  as  "  Missing." 

I  went  my  way  on  other  matters,  but,  as  is  my  cus 
tom  in  every  transaction,  I  never  entirely  lost  the 
case  from  my  mind.  Then,  one  day  in  Singapore  I 
picked  up  a  copy  of  the  "  North  China  News,"  and 
here  is  the  clipping  I  made : 

Passengers  ex  SS  Fingal  Bay  from  Vancouver  via  Hawaii, 
Miss  Mary  E.  Foster  and  Henry  Hoke,  Esq.  Proceeded  same 
day. 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       193 

That  is  dated  in  1895,  four  years  after  the  loss  of 
the  schooner  Mary  E.  Foster.  But  I  knew  right  away 
that  those  names,  joined  for  the  second  time,  meant 
something.  I  looked  up  my  notes  again  and  assured 
myself  that  one  of  the  seamen  picked  up  after  the 
foundering  of  the  vessel  was  named  Henry  Hoke.  You 
see  how  these  facts  work  out:  What  had  Henry  Hoke 
to  do  with  Mary  E.  Foster?  Was  she  the  daughter 
of  the  captain  and  former  part  owner?  If  Captain 
Foster  sold  his  interest  in  his  ship  to  send  his  daughter 
to  school,  how  did  she  have  money  to  travel  in  the 
style  that  this  clipping  inferred?  Where  did  Henry 
Hoke,  a  common  sailor,  get  the  money  to  travel  first 
cabin  in  the  same  ship  ?  Did  Henry  Hoke  and  Mary 
E.  Foster  get  part  or  all  of  the  insurance  money  from 
the  schooner? 

You  see  what  a  beautiful  series  of  problems  it  set 
for  me.  You  will  say  immediately,  "  How  did  you 
know  these  were  the  same  persons  ? "  I  will  say  that 
it  was  because  I  know  that  a  part  of  a  circle,  if  con 
tinued,  will  meet  itself.  I  was  as  sure  of  the  identity 
of  this  Mary  Foster  and  Henry  Hoke  as  I  was  of  my 
own. 

But  I  could  n't  get  to  Shanghai  to  trace  them.  The 
loss  had  been  paid,  too.  However,  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  some  day  I  would  know  the  history  of  the  wreck 
of  the  Mary  E.  Foster. 

In  the  San  Francisco  "  Chronicle "  of  May  12th, 
1898,  I  found  this  paragraph,  the  third  of  m^ 
series : 


194    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

It  is  rumored  along  the  water  front  that  the  owners  of  the 
dismantled  hulk  Mary  E.  Foster,  which  has  been  lying  in  the 
mud  up  Oakland  Creek  for  many  years,  will  refit  her  to  take 
a  party  of  prospectors  and  their  outfits  to  the  Alaskan  gold 
fields  this  season. 

Now,  schooners  of  the  same  name  are  unusual, 
specially  hailing  from  the  same  port.  I  put  my  three 
clippings  together,  and  then  I  went  and  hunted  up  the 
owners  of  this  Mary  E.  Foster.  They  were  a  little 
crowd  of  Greek  fishermen  who  had  bought  her  for 
junk.  I  found  that  they  had  purchased  the  hull  and 
fittings  in  1890,  after  the  schooner  had  been  laid  up 
since  1888.  That  was  all  the  satisfaction  I  got,  except 
that  I  measured  the  old  craft  and  found  her  dimensions 
were  exactly  those  of  the  vessel  lost  off  the  Hawaiian 
Islands  in  1891  on  which  the  underwriters  had  paid 
$75,000. 

Then  I  came  to  the  true  conclusion:  The  only  Mary 
E.  Foster  that  ever  existed  was  the  one  lying  up  Oak 
land  Creek  —  that  had  lain  there  ever  since  1888.  An 
insurance  company  had  paid  $75,000  on  a  schooner  and 
cargo  that  never  existed  and  consequently  never  could 
arrive  in  port.  Nice  conclusion,  was  n't  it  ? 

I  took  my  three  clippings  to  the  agent  in  San  Fran 
cisco  and  we  went  over  the  whole  affair  again.  It  was 
plain  that  something  had  been  done  in  the  way  of  a 
big  mystery,  for  we  could  find  no  trace  of  any  Mary  E. 
Foster  evcept  the  one  lying  up  Oakland  Creek  dis 
mantled.  No  real  trace,  I  should  say.  We  did  find 
this,  a  clipping  from  the  San  Francisco  "  Call  "  under 
date  of  June  7th,  1891 : 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       195 

Honolulu,  June  1.  —  Sailed,  Am  Sch  Mary  E.  Foster  for  San 
Francisco.  From  Suva,  May  29. 

You  see  the  point  ?  There  was  no  cable  to  the 
Islands  then  and  that  item  was  brought  up  by  the 
mail  boat.  So  much  had  been  made  evident  that  I 
made  a  report  to  the  home  office  and  started  out  to 
solve  the  mystery  that  these  four  clippings  had  woven. 
And  that  begins  the  story  of  the  schooner  Mary  E. 
Foster,  Guardeen. 

The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  go  to  Honolulu  and  look 
up  the  records  in  the  Harbor  Master's  office  relative 
to  the  sailing  of  the  schooner  Mary  E.  Foster  on  June 
1st,  1891.  I  may  state  that  no  schooner  of  that  name 
entered  Honolulu  in  that  year  or  departed  from  it. 
The  latest  record  of  the  Mary  E.  Foster  was  in  1887. 
You  have  observed  the  clipping  from  the  "  Call." 
Is  n't  it  business-like  ?  But  it  was  all  a  lie.  The 
Foster  never  sailed  from  Honolulu  that  day  in  June, 
1891 ;  therefore  no  schooner  of  that  name  was  lost 
300  miles  east  of  Koke  Head  twelve  days  later.  That 
is  one  fact.  The  others  were  that  three  men  in  a  small 
boat  had  been  picked  up  by  the  Mariposa,  that  they 
had  told  this  story  of  the  Mary  E.  Foster  and  that  the 
San  Francisco  "  Call,"  on  June  7th,  several  days  be 
fore  the  Mariposa  arrived  with  the  survivors,  had  pub 
lished  a  false  item  of  news. 

Nothing  could  change  these  facts.  But  there  was 
another  truth  that  they  indicated:  the  man  in  San 
Francisco  who  had  placed  the  insurance  knew  the 
inside  history.  If  he  was  not  one  of  the  three  sailors, 


196    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

that  made  four  men  concerned  in  the  mystery  of  the 
Mary  E.  Foster.  I  knew  the  names  of  three  of  them. 
I  knew  that  one,  Henry  Hoke,  still  kept  the  name  he 
had  gone  by  in  this  transaction.  Also  I  knew  that  a 
woman  called  Mary  E.  Foster  was  alive  and  knew 
Henry  Hoke.  I  was  puzzled,  sonny,  me  lad.  There 
were  a  dozen  possible  explanations  and  all  I  could 
do  was  to  wait  for  another  fact  to  turn  up.  It  loomed 
up  while  I  was  in  Honolulu.  Here  is  my  last  clipping. 
It  is  from  the  Honolulu  "  Commercial  Advertiser  "  of 
June  14th,  1899 : 

An  application  was  made  yesterday  for  a  transfer  of 
record  in  the  matter  of  Mary  E.  Foster,  Guardian,  to  the 
consular  court  in  Shanghai.  The  property  of  the  estate  is 
being  administered  by  Bittle  &  ^Company  of  Honolulu  and 
the  application  is  made  by  them  as  attorneys  for  the  closing 
up  of  the  guardianship  matter  as  the  ward  has  reached  her 
majority. 

I  called  on  Bittle  &  Company  and  was  referred  to 
their  attorney.  I  do  not  know  just  how  to  tell  the 
various  stories  that  finally  united  in  the  solution  of  the 
mystery,  but  I  beg  you  to  listen  carefully.  There  is 
a  certain  amount  of  interest  in  the  matter  from  the 
standpoint  of  a  student  of  humanity.  The  great  inter 
est,  I  may  say,  is  in  the  logic  by  which  a  keen  mind 
may  solve  riddles  woven  through  many  years  by  men 
vitally  concerned  in  secrecy. 

The  attorney  was  very  reticent  about  the  whole  mat 
ter  until  I  showed  him  my  credentials.  He  then  took 
me  down  to  see  the  manager  of  the  bank.  He,  too, 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       197 

was  very  non-committal,  but  as  a  business  man  he 
felt  compelled  to  afford  me  some  opportunity  of  gaining 
information.  You  will  understand  that  I  did  not  tell 
them  my  object.  I  assumed  for  the  time  the  role  of 
a  man  who  had  a  pecuniary  interest  in  the  estate  and 
who  demanded  satisfactory  proof  that  his  interests  were 
being  safeguarded. 

"We  are  acting  solely  as  the  custodians  of  the  funds 
of  the  estate/'  said  the  manager  finally.  "  It  was  put 
into  our  hands  in  September,  1891,  upon  the  applica 
tion  of  Thomas  Richards  and  Passiah  Mint  to  the 
court  of  the  Kingdom  of  Hawaii  for  the  appointment 
of  a  guardian  ad  litem  for  the  minor  Mary  E. 
Foster.  The  estate  consisted  of  $75,000  in  cash  in 
vested  in  English  securities.  We  have  taken  charge  of 
this  investment  and  made  our  annual  report  as  required 
by  law.  The  minor  has  now,  we  understand,  reached 
her  majority  and  we  are  prepared  to  turn  the  property 
over  to  her  at  her  request." 

That  was  the  extent  of  the  statement  and  I  felt  that 
I  must  have  some  details  to  go  on.  I  asked  the  address 
of  Messrs.  Hoke  and  Mint.  "  I  think  that  these  gentle 
men,  being  the  applicants  in  the  matter,"  I  said,  "  will 
be  most  capable  of  telling  me  the  exact  status  of  my 
claim." 

"  I  would  suggest,"  the  manager  said,  "  that  you 
communicate  with  the  guardian,  whose  agents  we 


are. 
tt 


And  who  is  the  guardeen  ?  "  I  demanded. 
"  Mary  E.  Foster,"  he  answered. 


198    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  But  I  thought  that  that  was  the  name  of  the 
minor  ? "  I  remarked. 

"  Of  the  guardian,  also,"  was  the  response. 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  the  guardeen  ?  "  I  insisted. 

"  We  are,"  he  replied.  "  Our  duties  have  been 
merely  those  connected  with  the  conserving  of  the 
estate's  interests  in  this  kingdom  and  the  investment 
of  the  moneys  intrusted  to  us  at  the  application  of  the 
gentlemen  named." 

I  saw  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  pur 
suing  this  course  of  action  and  I  plumped  out :  "  Repre 
senting  Lloyd's  agency,  as  my  credentials  will  show,  I 
shall  be  compelled  to  enter  suit  for  the  whole  estate 
in  your  hands  in  behalf  of  the  underwriters  who  paid 
the  loss  of  the  schooner  Mary  E.  Foster,  alleged  to 
have  foundered  in  mid-ocean  on  June  12th,  1891." 

I  shall  never  forget  the  look  on  the  manager's  face. 
He  seemed  to  have  been  hit  in  the  face  and  the  color 
rose  to  his  ears.  Then  he  got  up  and  walked  back  and 
forth  a  moment  across  the  steaming  hot  office.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?  "  he  demanded,  at  last. 

I  told  him  in  five  minutes  and  he  listened  like  a  man 
barkening  to  a  message  told  in  a  whisper.  When  I 
had  finished  he  and  the  attorney  stared  at  each  other 
and  then,  to  my  amazement,  laughed. 

"  So  that  explains  it,"  the  attorney  said,  controlling 
himself. 

"  Explains  what  ?  "  I  demanded. 

"  A  thousand  things,  Mr.  Garfinkle,"  the  manager 
replied,  his  face  growing  solemn  again.  "  I  shall  not 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       199 

longer  keep  from  you  the  address  of  Mr.  Henry  Hoke. 
And  when  you  have  had  a  talk  with  him,  I  wish  you 
would  bring  him  down  to  the  bank.  I  should  like  to 
know  what  your  course  of  action  will  be.  You  under 
stand  that  we  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  anything 
except  the  custody  of  the  moneys  of  the  estate  and  that 
those  moneys  are  ready  in  our  hands  to  be  delivered 
to  whomever  the  courts  may  determine." 

"  Mr.  Hoke  is  living  at  Palama,"  the  attorney  inter 
posed,  with  a  look  of  genuine  concern  on  his  face.  "  I 
should  be  glad  to  go  with  you  to  see  him,  if  you  do  not 
mind." 

Now  banks  like  Bittle  &  Company  are  not  to  be 
suspected  of  evil  doing  and  their  attorney  must  neces 
sarily  be  an  honest  and  upright  man.  I  would  need 
impartial  assistance  in  my  next  operations  and  I  gladly 
acquiesced  in  the  attorney's  proposal. 

As  we  walked  down  King  street  towards  Palama, 
which  is  the  district  of  Honolulu  across  the  river,  the 
attorney,  my  companion,  seemed  oddly  disturbed.  I 
noticed  it  and  finally  demanded  of  him  whether  he 
would  prefer  not  to  accompany  me.  He  replied  that 
it  was  his  duty,  with  my  permission,  to  go  along  and 
see  that  his  client's  interest  suffered  no  harm.  "  Not 
that  I  think  you  would  willingly  put  us  in  a  false 
position,  Mr.  Garfinkle,"  he  went  on.  "  But  in  cir 
cumstances  so  remarkable  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me 
if  I  defer  my  full  agreement  in  the  facts  that  you 
assert  until  after  we  have  interviewed  Mr.  Hoke." 

We  turned  off  King  street  and  went  through  the 


200    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

windings  of  Aala  Lane  under  the  palms  until  we  came 
to  a  small  house  set  back  in  a  very  neatly-kept  yard. 
This,  the  attorney  informed  me,  was  the  residence  of 
Hoke.  "  And  there  he  is,"  he  said,  "  sitting  on  the 
lanai  taking  the  air." 

Sonny,  me  lad,  Hoke  was  the  owner  whom  I  had 
seen  in  1891  in  the  "  Bowhead  "  saloon  and  the  man 
to  whom  the  insurance  had  been  paid.  I  stopped  at 
the  gate  to  make  sure  of  it  and  I  tell  you  I  was  of 
two  minds  whether  to  go  in  or  not.  I  have  met  many 
desperate  men,  and  I  have  gone  down  under  more 
than  one  fighting  felon.  But  of  all  the  malignant  and 
baleful  countenances  that  I  ever  confronted  I  shall 
give  first  place  to  that  of  Hoke. 

He  rose  when  we  entered,  and  shot  his  chair  back 
to  the  wall  with  one  swift  straightening  of  his  knee. 
Then  I  was  sure  that  he  knew  me,  recognized  me  after 
all  the  years.  And,  more  than  that,  I  knew  he  had 
been  expecting  me.  Sometimes,  at  night,  I  think  of 
the  people  who  are  expecting  me  —  people  in  cottages 
out  pretty  roads  from  London,  men  in  public  houses 
on  the  outskirts  of  Sydney  and  Auckland,  skippers  tool 
ing  up  and  down  the  inner  seas  in  broken  vessels,  mates 
guzzling  gin  in  San  Francisco  dives,  pompous  chaps  in 
fine  linen  and  broadcloth  sitting  in  pews  in  fine 
churches,  all  waiting  for  Samuel  Garfinkle  to  come  in 
and  say,  "  I  've  come  to  ask  you  — "  Grim-faced, 
sodden-eyed,  busy-minded,  drunken,  boastful  men, 
waiting  for  Samuel  Garfinkle  .  .  .  retribution  .  .  . 
Destiny  —  the  End! 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       201 

And  here  I  walked  in  this  little  gate  a  hot  afternoon 
in  Honolulu,  the  roar  of  the  surf  on  the  reef  beating 
through  the  palms  and  Henry  Hoke  waiting  for  me, 
with  his  heavy  face  set  in  desperation  and  defiance 
and ,  murderous  purpose.  And  all  I  said,  sonny,  me 
lad,  was,  "  Mr.  Hoke,  I  've  come  to  ask  you  —  " 

He  hardly  noticed  the  presence  of  the  attorney,  but 
stared  at  me,  his  big  frame  stiff  and  menacing.  I 
picked  up  a  chair  that  sat  near  the  end  of  the  lanai 
and  seated  myself.  "  I  've  come  to  ask  you  about  the 
loss  of  the  Mary  E.  Foster"  I  finished,  holding  myself 
calmly. 

"  What  about  it  ? "  he  managed  to  demand,  relaxing 
by  an  effort. 

"  All  about  it,"  I  responded,  tilting  my  chair  back 
and  pulling  out  some  cigars. 

The  attorney  took  one  and  I  handed  the  other  out 
towards  Hoke.  He  stared  at  it  a  moment  and  then 
took  it,  slowly.  I  heard  his  teeth  crunch  through  the 
end  of  it. 

"  Yes,"  I  said  quietly,  "  I  am  very  much  interested 
in  the  case.  You  remember  you  proved  a  loss  of 
$75,000  in  San  Francisco  in  1891  and  we  paid  you. 
Now,  we  understand,  there  was  no  schooner  of  the 
name  of  Mary  E.  Foster  on  the  high  seas  that  year,  or 
any  time  since.  On  what  schooner  did  we  pay  that 
loss?" 

He  might  have  denied  it  and  I  would  have  had  to 
spend  a  year  proving  that  he  was  the  man  who  had 
sworn  ownership  to  that  vessel.  But,  as  I  say,  he  had 


202    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

been  waiting  for  me,  and  he  thought,  of  course,  that 
I  was  ready  for  him.  So  he  came  direct  to  the  point: 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  just  informed  the  attorney  of  Bittle  & 
Company  that  I  am  going  to  the  court  and  ask  for  the 
principal  and  interest  of  the  sum  you  defrauded  us 
of,"  I  responded.  "  Then  I  am  going  to  put  you  in 
jail,  you  and  all  concerned  in  this  fraud." 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me,  then  ? "  he  sneered. 
"  If  you  Ve  got  it  all  cut  and  dried,  why  bother  me 
with  questions  ? " 

"  Because,"  I  said  frankly,  "  I  am  curious  to  know 
why  you  did  this  —  you  and  Thomas  Richards  and 
Passiah  Mint.  I  find  that  the  money  has  been  left 
practically  untouched  and  is  in  the  name  of  Mary  E. 
Foster,  the  daughter,  I  take  it,  of  the  man  who,  once 
master  of  the  schooner  of  that  name,  sold  in  1899  to  cer 
tain  Greek  fishermen  in  Oakland.  Evidently,  you  have 
not  profited  directly  by  your  crime.  Mary  E.  Foster  has 
profited.  It  will  majie  it  easier  for  you  if  you  will  tell 
me  how  she  used  you  as  a  tool  to  gain  this  wealth." 

Even  the  attorney  was  alarmed  by  Hoke's  aspect 
at  these  words.  His  huge  fist  doubled  up  and  his  arm 
stretched  toward  me  as  if  he  would  catch  me  in  some 
fatal  grip  and  crush  me.  But  I  did  not  move.  "  I 
am  advising  you  to  make  a  clean  breast  for  your  own 
sake,"  I  repeated.  "  A  full  confession  will  have  much 
influence  with  the  court." 

To  my  amazement  —  and  I  was  prepared  for  almost 
any  demonstration  —  Hoke  rose  to  his  feet  and  walked 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       203 

away  from  me  to  the  edge  of  the  lanai  and  then  back, 
his  face  as  he  turned  it  toward  me  working  like  that 
of  a  child  trying  to  stifle  a  sob.  He  strode  thus  for  a 
full  five  minutes  while  the  attorney  and  I  watched 
him  curiously.  At  the  end  of  that  time  a  second  man 
came  -in  the  gate  and  came  up  on  the  lanai.  He  was 
a  short,  greasy-looking  man  with  a  fat  and  placid  face. 
He  stared  at  Hoke  and  then  took  in  the  attorney  and 
myself  with  a  slow  and  unperturbed  glance. 

Hoke  stopped  directly  in  front  of  him  and  shook 
his  fist  in  his  face.  "  They  're  after  Mary  Foster,"  he 
bellowed  with  surprising  volume  of  tone. 

"  Mary !  "  echoed  the  new-comer. 

"  Yes,  Mary,  Passiah  Mint,  and  it  's  neither  your 
old  carcass  nor  mine  that  '11  serve  instead." 

Nothing  more  ludicrous  could  be  imagined  than 
these  two  men  glaring  at  each  other,  Hoke's  face  ex 
pressing  the  very  deepest  of  anger  and  Mint's  slowly 
developing  a  bewilderment,  a  chagrin  and  a  despair 
that  nearly  set  me  to  laughing.  But  I  was  on  business 
bent  and  I  sharply  brought  them  to  a  realization  of 
it.  "  I  have  n't  any  time  to  waste,"  I  said  briefly. 

At  this  moment  there  was  an  ejaculation  from  Mint 
that  gave  me  my  cue :  "  Mary !  "  he  gasped.  "  And  she 
never  knew  anything  about  it !  " 

"  If  she  did  n't,"  I  cut  in,  "  she  never  need  know, 
if  you  will  kindly  tell  me  the  circumstances  of  this 
extraordinary  crime." 

"  You  mean  that  ? "  said  Hoke  with  a  sudden  quiet 
ness  of  voice. 


204    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  I  do,"  I  said  readily,  feeling  that  I  now  had  my 
entrance  into  the  mystery.  "  If  the  girl  you  speak  of 
knew  nothing  of  this  most  remarkable  affair  —  from 
which,  I  gather,  you  profited  immensely  —  I  give  you 
my  word  she  cannot  be  brought  into  it." 

I  will  not  detail  the  particulars  of  the  methods  I 
used  to  extract  from  these  two  men  the  history  of  their 
crime  —  for  such  of  course  it  proved  to  be.  But  it 
finally  was  exposed,  in  full,  by  Hoke  and  Mint.  I  ven 
ture  to  state  that  a  more  peculiar  case  has  never  come 
under  the  cognizance  of  my  department.  To  appre 
ciate  the  oddity  of  the  whole  matter,  I  must  give  you 
the  statement  of  Hoke  and  his  companion,  together  with 
their  explanation  of  the  genesis  of  their  plan  and  the 
details  of  its  execution. 

"  We  were  sailormen  with  Captain  Foster,"  Hoke 
said,  looking  at  Mint. 

"  In  the  old  Mary  E.  Foster?"  I  demanded. 

"  The  same.  There  was  three  of  us,  me  and  Richards 
and  Mint.  I  reckon  we  stayed  by  Captain  Foster  about 
three  years,  before  he  was  struck  by  the  main  boom 
and  died  in  a  blanket  in  the  lee  of  the  wheelbox." 
Hoke  stopped  and  stared  at  me,  his  heavy  face  set 
in  deep  and  rebellious  lines.  And  then,  as  he  did 
many  times  during  the  piecing  out  of  the  story,  he 
suddenly  cried  out  to  know  why  he  should  tell  me  these 
things.  I  brought  him  to  his  task  again  each  time  by 
speaking  of  the  girl.  "  I  shall  have  to  go  straight  to 
her  and  find  it  all  out,"  I  would  say. 

"  Captain  Foster  was  a  hard  man,"  Hoke  told  me. 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       205 

"  He  would  run  his  schooner  without  a  mate,  to  save 
money  and  I  can  see  him  yet  sitting  on  the  weather 
rail  with  his  chin  on  his  chest  and  his  eyes  half  shut 
for  lack  of  sleep  while  his  ship  plunged  along.  It 
showed  how  hard  he  was  that  he  never  rigged  boom 
tackles  to  save  his  schooner  from  the  wrecking  jar 
of  the  big  booms  coming  inboard.  '  Short-handed 
schooners  make  better  time  without  them,'  he  'd  growl." 

Mint  took  it  up :  "  Yes,  and  I  've  stood  in  the  galley 
watching  the  sails  crumple  up  when  the  wind  shifted, 
and  then  hung  on  while  the  three  booms  started  in, 
crossed  the  decks  and  brought  up  on  the  sheets  with 
that  force  that  the  Mary  E.  Foster  would  jump  the 
oakum  out  of  the  seams.  You  could  n't  sleep  for  the 
thunder  of  'em  and  the  yell  of  the  tops'l  men  shifting 
the  tops'l  sheets  up  there  on  the  buckling  masts  while 
the  gaffs  thumped  them  in  the  ribs.  He  was  a  devil, 
Foster  was." 

"  So  you  see,"  Hoke  went  on,  "  it  was  somewhat  of 
a  surprise  to  us  when  he  came  down  Clay  street  in 
San  Francisco  one  day  with  a  baby  girl  in  his  arms. 
He  took  her  into  the  galley  and  I  heard  him  say  to 
Passiah  here,  '  Cookie,  the  old  woman  's  dead.  Here  's 
the  kid.  Look  after  her.' 

"  That  was  all  he  said  and  a  little  later  we  were 
scooting  out  the  Golden  Gate  bound  for  Hilo  for  sugar. 
And  there  was  where  the  boom  tackles  might  have  saved 
the  old  man  his  life  and  you  and  me,  Passiah,  all  this 
pilikia  (trouble).  Think,  sir,  of  a  little  girl  playing 
on  the  quarter-deck  under  the  traveler-block,  with  the 


sheet  dancing  and  thrumming  out  to  the  boom-end  and 
never  a  tackle  to  keep  that  lump  of  timber  from  swing 
ing  inboard !  And  one  day  she  had  her  little  legs  curled 
up  under  the  creaking  block  and  her  little  ear  to  the 
humming  rope  listening  to  '  the  b'ass  band '  when  the 
schooner  fell  off  and  the  big  boom  hovered  doubtful 
and  the  big  block  started  to  come  home.  The  old  man 
saw  the  kiddie  and  that  if  the  boom  swung  she  'd  be 
crushed  by  the  traveler  like  a  biscuit  in  a  dog's  mouth, 
and  he  jumped.  Jumped,  by  Heaven,  a  good  thirty 
feet  and  threw  her  back.  But  the  boom  came  home 
and  we  picked  him  up  and  he  died  in  a  blanket  in 
the  lee  of  the  wheel-house  with  the  little  girl  pulling 
in  his  beard." 

Hoke  hummed  a  while,  tilted  back  in  his  chair,  and 
the  ex-cook  gazed  at  me,  shaking  his  head.  "  Go  on 
with  the  story,"  I  commanded. 

"  We  were  n't  any  of  us  navigators,"  Hoke  remarked. 
"  But  we  brought  the  schooner  on  down  here,  burying 
the  skipper  out  there  between  the  coast  and  the  islands. 
And  when  we  got  here,  they  took  the  schooner  away 
from  us  and  in  a  month  we  found  we  had  just  ten 
dollars  between  us  and  the  girl  kid.  Her  share  of  the 
schooner  went  into  the  courts  and  never  came  out.  It 
was  right  here  in  Palama  that  we  came  that  day 
we  went  broke  and  the  three  of  us  sat  down  there  on 
the  bank  of  the  stream  and  the  little  kiddie  sat  in  the 
middle  and  cried  into  her  little  frock.  But  we  three 
were  n't  going  to  abandon  her  and  we  swore  to  a  paper 
that  we  would  go  to  sea  and  turn  over  our  wages  to 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       207 

the  girl.      That  was  just  fifteen  years   ago.     Here 's 
the  paper." 

Hoke  handed  out  to  me  a  piece  of  paper  which  is 
not  among  my  records,  for  a  reason  that  I  shall  explain 
in  due  time.  But  I  know  its  wording,  for  it  was  very 
short.  It  was  as  follows : 

"  We  swear  to  this  paper,  so  help  me  God  no  harm  is  to  come 
to  Mary  Foster  till  she  has  growed  up  and  knows  her  own  mind, 
and  we  will  pay  all  our  pay  day  each  time  to  the  old  woman  living 
in  Aala  Lane  to  buy  her  frocks  and  send  her  to  school. 

"  THOMAS  RICHARDS,  A.B. 

"HENRY  HOKE,  A.B. 

"PASSIAH  MINT,  Cook." 

Funny  document,  was  n't  it  ?  And  when  I  read  it 
Hoke  folded  it  up  and  tucked  it  away  as  careful  as 
if  it  were  valuable. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  so  far  so  good.  But  what  hap 
pened  after  that  ?  You  're  pretty  slow  coming  to  the 
point." 

"  That  paper  's  the  point,"  Hoke  replied,  buttoning 
his  jacket.  "  We  took  the  little  one  to  the  old  woman 
that  lived  here  and  told  her,  says  we,  '  You  feed  this 
little  girl  and  dress  her  in  nice  frocks  and  keep  her 
away  from  the  natives  and  we  '11  pay  you  twenty  dollars 
a  month.'  Then  we  went  away  and  shipped.  Richards, 
he  went  to  Shanghai  and  Mint  here  got  a  berth  on  an 
inter-island  steamer  as  cook  and  I  went  back  to  the 
coast  in  the  bark  Irmgarde.  And  every  payday  we 
sent  the  money  to  the  old  woman  here  for  the  kiddie." 

"  I  take  it  that  Mint  kept  his  eye  on  the  girl,  seeing 


208    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

he  was  traveling  from  here  to  the  other  islands  and 
back,"  said  the  attorney,  helping  him  out. 

"  Yes,"  says  Mint.  "  I  ran  from  here  to  Molokai 
and  Hilo  and  every  Saturday  I  went  up  here  to  see 
how  the  little  one  was  getting  on.  She  used  to  like 
to  pull  my  whiskers." 

You  may  imagine  my  impatience  to  get  to  the  end 
of  the  account.  So  I  brought  Hoke  up  with  a  round 
turn  and  told  him  I  did  n't  want  any  more  extraneous 
details,  but  the  straight  story  of  the  loss  of  the  Mary 
E.  Foster. 

"  It  was  all  right  for  some  years,"  he  said,  "  till 
Richards  got  on  a  drunk  in  Belfast  and  drank  up  his 
pay  day  out  of  an  English  bark  from  the  Colonies  — 
a  good  forty  pounds  gone  like  smoke  out  of  a  pipe. 
And  the  girl  was  growing  all  along  and  had  stopped 
being  dressed  in  little  frocks  and  had  taken  to  shoes 
and  long  socks  as  well.  The  old  woman  told  us  she 
needed  double  the  money.  '  And  she  ought  to  go  to 
school  down  in  Auckland  or  Sydney,'  she  says,  '  if  you 
don't  want  her  to  take  up  with  the  natives  here.  She 
is  growing  into  a  young  lady.' 

"  That  was  all  true,  and  Mint  and  I  —  I  came  down 
on  the  Falls  of  Clyde  to  see  about  how  things  was 
going  —  talked  it  over  and  we  decided  that  the  little 
girl  should  have  as  good  as  any :  '  Boarding  school, 
bonnets,  silk  handkerchiefs  and  a  purse  with  little  gold 
pieces  in  it,'  says  Mint,  t  and  you  and  me  can't  make 
it  on  our  pay  days.  First  we  drink  too  much  and  buy 
clothes  and  then  Richards  swills  the  proceeds  of  a  ten 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       209 

months'  voyage  in  Ireland.  If  we  didn't  drink  and 
did  n't  buy  so  many  clothes  when  we  came  down  to 
see  her  so  she  can  sit  in  our  laps  without  getting  all 
over  tar,  we  might  make  the  school  over  in  Lahaina. 
But  I  get  ashore  and  take  a  drink  for  luck  and  before 
I  knows  it  half  my  pay  is  gone  on  that  and  clothes/ 
says  Passiah. 

"  I  felt  the  same  way,  and  we  were  n't  doing  the  little 
girl  justice,  so  when  Richards  turns  up,  after  his  letter, 
we  took  turns  making  him  see  how  rotten  he  had  acted 
and  then  we  sat  down  to  plan  ways  and  means  of 
sending  Mary  Foster  to  school  and  letting  her  have 
a  good  time. 

"  It  would  n't  interest  you,  sir,  to  know  how  we 
figured  it  out,  but  we  did  figure  it  that  the  easiest  way 
was  to  make  it  out  of  the  insurance  companies.  We 
knew  they  had  the  money  and  we  did  n't  want  any 
mistakes  about  that  end  of  it.  So  we  got  it." 

That  fellow  (Mr.  Garfinkle  waved  his  hand  with  an 
indescribable  air  of  comic  chagrin)  plumped  out  with 
this  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way,  as  if,  by  Jove, 
all  they  had  had  to  do  was  to  decide  on  the  sum  they 
needed  and  ask  the  insurance  company  for  it.  And  I 
had  nothing  to  say,  for  they  had  got  it.  So  I  simply 
waited  for  the  rest  of  the  story. 

"  We  had  heard  the  old  schooner  Mary  E.  Foster 
was  laid  up  and  dismantled,  and  Passiah,  here,  thought 
that  was  the  best  vessel  to  use.  *  The  little  girl  never 
got  her  rights  out  of  it,'  says  he,  '  and  I  think  we  can 
get  'em  for  her.  And  besides  we  '11  tell  her  it  was 


210    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

coming  from  her  father's  share.'  You  see,  Mary  was 
very  questionable  in  her  manner  and  always  wanted 
to  know  everything  about  what  we  did.  And  we  had 
swore  we  would  n't  lie  to  her  except  about  ourselves 
for  her  own  good,  we  being  not  exactly  proper  to  know 
for  a  young  lady. 

"  So  Richards  went  down  to  the  Fijis  and  Passiah 
stayed  here  and  I  went  to  San  Francisco.  I  took  a 
letter  up  with  me  saying  that  the  schooner  Mary  E. 
Foster  had  rescued  a  lot  of  missionaries  out  of  Rara- 
tonga  and  had  taken  them  to  Tahiti.  That  went  into 
the  paper.  Then  Passiah  got  to  sending  up  items  from 
Auckland  and  the  Colonies  by  the  mail  boat,  all  about 
the  Mary  E.  Foster  going  about  with  cargo.  And  then 
I  went  and  got  the  Mary  E.  Foster  insured  with  a 
cargo,  of  shell  from  Suva  by  way  of  Honolulu  to  Astoria. 
Then  Passiah  and  Richards  met  me  here  in  Honolulu 
and  we  waited  till  we  thought  it  was  the  right  time 
and  Passiah  handed  the  purser  of  the  Chica  a  letter  to 
the  newspapers  announcing  the  sailing  of  the  schooner 
Mary  E.  Foster  from  here  to  Astoria. 

"  Of  course,  being  in  the  mud  up  Oakland  creek 
she  would  n't  arrive,  would  she  ?  But  everybody,  hav 
ing  seen  her  name  in  the  papers  for  some  time,  was 
sure  she  was  sailing  the  seas.  And  we  were  going  to 
wait  a  while  till  she  was  overdue  and  then  go  up  to 
the  coast  and  collect  the  money. 

"  But  Richards  thought  it  would  be  better  not  to 
have  to  wait  so  long  and  so  we  shipped  on  the  Nor 
wegian  ship  Hildegarde,  out  of  Hilo  round  the  Horn. 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       211 

We  had  it  all  figured  out,  and  when  we  had  got  pretty 
well  off  shore  we  took  the  quarter  boat  and  stole  away 
in  the  middle  watch.  Two  days  later  the  Mariposa 
came  up  over  the  edge  of  the  sea  and  took  us  aboard, 
and  it  was  all  fixed  then.  We  told  of  losing  the 
schooner,  put  our  names  down  on  a  paper  and  shipped 
outward  again,  all  but  me.  I  played  the  owner  and 
collected  the  money  —  $75,000  in  good  money." 

That  was  their  story.  Simple  as  addition  and  sub 
traction.  But  you  were  saying,  How  about  the  Mary 
E.  Foster,  Guardeen?  This  was  the  way  of  that,  just 
as  Mint  told  it  that  afternoon  at  Palama. 

"  We  had  the  money,  all  right,  and  we  did  n't  know 
just  how  to  fix  it,  so  one  day  Hoke  and  Richards  went 
to  the  bank  and  told  them  about  Mary  E.  Foster  having 
some  money  left  and  she  was  a  little  girl  and  was  going 
to  school  in  Auckland  with  other  ladies,  and  how  would 
we  fix  the  money  of  it?  And  they  told  us  about  the 
law  and  the  rules  about  all  little  girls  having  guardians. 
Right  there  Hoke  spoke  up,  '  The  schooner  Mary  E. 
Foster  is  her  guardian.' 

"  The  bank  people  laughed,  and  when  we  'd  explained 
that  the  money  was  her  share  out  of  the  courts,  and 
she  'd  come  down  and  talked  about  her  father  and  sat 
on  our  knees  and  smiled  at  everybody,  the  bank  said 
all  right,  and  the  money  belonged  to  the  schooner  Mary 
E,  Foster,  Guardian. 

"  So  Hoke  paid  over  the  money  and  the  bank  people 
promised  to  send  her  a  good  sum  of  money  every  month 
and  see  that  she  Avas  given  good  frocks  and  little  gold 


212    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

pieces  for  her  little  purse  to  give  to  beggars  and  poor 
boys  on  the  crossings,  like  any  little  lady.  Hoke  took 
her  down  to  the  Colonies  in  the  Ventura." 

Hoke  squirmed  a  little  and  explained  that  he  went 
as  quartermaster,  just  to  keep  an  eye  on  her. 

"  But  you  landed  in  Shanghai  out  of  the  Fingal  Bay 
four  years  afterward,"  I  suggested,  just  to  let  him 
know  I  was  up  on  the  facts.  You  should  have  seen 
Hoke  look  at  Mint.  "  I  knew  they  had  an  eye  on  us," 
he  said  with  a  groan.  "  We  made  a  bull  somewhere." 

"  What  were  you  doing  in  Shanghai  ? "  I  insisted. 

"  I  was  taking  her  back  to  school,"  said  Hoke 
promptly.  "  She  came  back  to  Honolulu  on  the  sly 
to  see  us  without  letting  us  know,  and  I  had  to  see 
her  safe  to  school  again." 

Mint  laughed  for  the  first  time.  "  You  were  a  toff," 
he  remarked.  "  Hard  hat,  black  shoes  and  full  shore 
rig  and  a  handle  to  your  name !  " 

"  On  my  own  money,"  Hoke  interrupted  sharply. 
"  And  the  little  girl  was  going  to  be  taken  in  style, 
every  time,  and  it  was  up  to  me  to  do  it.  I  didn't 
like  the  togs  nor  the  cabin." 

"  It  was  a  tony  trip,"  sighed  the  cook,  shaking  his 
head.  "  And  you  was  the  only  one  could  ha'  carried  it 
off  in  style,  with  the  little  lady  calling  you  uncle  and 
sitting  beside  you  on  the  upper  deck  with  her  little 
hand  on  the  arm  of  your  chair.  I  saw  you." 

"  You  saw  him,"  I  interjected,  puzzled. 

"  I  was  in  the  galley,"  Mint  said,  relaxing  again, 
"  and  Kichards  was  one  of  the  deck  stewards.  And 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER        213 

nobody  knew  but  the  little  lady,  and  she  smiled  and 
thought  it  was  a  joke.  Told  Hoke,  here,  to  call  me 
down  one  day  for  making  her  coffee  too  hot  at  tiffin. 
But  we  saw  her  safe  to  school,  and  when  we  all  got 
ashore  at  Auckland  she  kissed  the  lot  of  us  and  tripped 
away  up  the  steps  with  her  little  purse  on  her  wrist 
and  the  tears  in  her  eyes." 

They  fell  silent  and  the  four  of  us  sat  there  a  long 
time,  tilted  back  in  our  chairs.  I  was  thinking  about 
just  how  to  get  the  thing  in  shape  for  the  courts,  when 
it  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  it  might  be  worth 
while  to  find  out  where  the  girl  was.  I  inquired. 

"  She  's  in  San  Francisco,"  said  Hoke,  "  and  you  '11 
have  to  take  it  all  out  of  us." 

"  When  is  she  coming  back  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Never,"  Hoke  said  quietly,  "  and  we  're  just  wait 
ing  till  the  guardeen  case  is  settled  before  we  start  out 
again.  She  's  growed  up." 

"  We  're  only  sailormen,"  said  the  cook,  drawing  a 
long  breath,  "  and  we  've  done  all  the  paper  we  swore 
on.  She 's  a-going  to  be  married  to  a  swell  up  on 
the  coast,  a  real  swell,  with  lots  of  money." 

"  But  he 's  all  right,"  interposed  Hoke  hurriedly. 
"  We  saw  to  that." 

The  attorney  spoke  up  at  this.  "  He  is  a  young  man 
of  good  family  and  excellent  prospects,  Mr.  Garfinkle. 
There  are  several  features  about  this  case  worthy  of 
careful  consideration.  I  may  state  what  these  men 
have  omitted  to  state,  that  they  have  neither  of  them, 
to  my  certain  knowledge,  profited  personally  by  one 


214    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

cent  in  this  transaction.  Indeed,  they  informed  me 
yesterday  that  as  soon  as  the  money  was  turned 
over  to  Miss  Foster  and  the  guardianship  closed 
up,  they  intended  resuming  their  seafaring  life  as  of 
old." 

"  We  won't  never  see  her  again,"  said  the  cook, 
simply. 

I  had  observed  that  Hoke  was  trying  to  speak,  but 
seemed  at  a  loss  how  to  begin.  Finally,  he  blurted 
out,  "  She  '11  be  married  in  a  month.  Let  the  thing 
go  till  it's  over  with.  She  didn't  never  know  any 
thing  about  it  and  she  's  getting  a  man  that  can  look 
out  for  her,  so  you  can  put  us  in  jail  then  and 
she  '11  never  know."  He  stooped  and  strangled.  "  You 
might  tell  her,"  he  said,  catching  his  breath,  "  that  — 
tell  the  little  girl  that  —  I  stole  it  and  ran  away."  He 
stopped. 

Mint's  face  flushed  and  he  shook  his  fist  at  Hoke. 
r<  We  stole  it,"  he  bellowed.  "  You  ain't  any  better 
than  me  and  I  'm  going  to  do  my  whack.  Yes,  sir, 
you  take  the  money  and  the  lawyer  here  can  go  up  to 
the  coast  and  tell  her  Passiah  Mint  and  Henry  Hoke 
was  no  good,  after  all  she  'd  done  for  'em,  and  stole 
the  money.  Then  we  '11  go  to  jail  and  she  '11  not  be 
bothered." 

"  How  about  Richards  ? "  I  suddenly  thought  to  ask, 
when  they  made  this  extraordinary  proposal. 

"  Richards  ain't  in  on  this  affair,"  said  Mint,  sav 
agely.  "  We  have  n't  told  her  about  Richards,  because 
she  thought  a  good  deal  of  him.  But  when  you  tell 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       215 

her  about  the  stealing  the  money  you  tell  her  Richards 
is  dead  and  tell  her  he  wrote  his  love  to  her  from  the 
hospital.  Hoke,  give  the  lawyer  his  letter." 

That  letter  (said  Mr.  Garfmkle),  I  have  with  me. 
It  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  I  have  it  here, 
though. 

It  read  thus: 

Deer  little  mary,  this  is  to  say  that  im  not  feellin  vary  wel  and 
must  say  good  by  and  be  good  becuz  a  pakin  case  in  Liverpool  fel 
on  my  belly  and  im  in  orspitel.  i  hav  the  blue  riband  you  tied 
my  whisker  whith  last  time  i  was  in  hanaloolu.  bee  a  good  gell. 
Hoke  and  mint  i  kept  what  i  swor.  im  sorry  fer  that  spree  in 
belfast  but  that  was  al  i  don  &  it  was  too  bad.  She  was  a  luvin 
litel  gell  when  she  tide  my  whisker  whith  the  riban.  im  dyin  hard 
on  acct  of  my  belly  bein  stove  in. 

respy  Thos  richards. 

The  lawyer  took  the  letter  and  gave  it  to  me  and 
we  sat  a  while  longer.  Then  Hoke  got  up  and  started 
walking  back  and  forth  again,  growling  in  his  beard. 
I  will  confess  that  I  was  somewhat  puzzled  to  know 
what  course  to  pursue,  and  during  my  meditation  the 
attorney  who  was  with  me  suddenly  said,  "  Hoke,  don't 
you  think  you  and  Mint  had  better  make  the  Sonoma 
to-night  ?  She  sails  at  eight  o'clock  for  Pago-Pago. 
Captain  Hilbert  told  me  this  morning  he  was  short- 
handed." 

I  realized  that  I  was  helpless,  and  I  tell  you  I  sat 
on  that  lanai  and  watched  those  two  scoundrels  walk 
down  Aala  Lane  with  their  little  kits  without  trying 
to  stop  them.  When  they  had  stamped  out  of  sight 


216    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

the  attorney  had  the  impudence  to  smile  at  me.  "  I 
forgot  to  inform  you,"  he  said,  "  that  the  matter  of 
the  guardianship  of  Mary  E.  Foster,  a  minor,  was 
closed  in  court  this  afternoon.  We  decided  not  to 
transfer  the  record  to  the  consular  court  in  Shanghai, 
which  Hoke  and  Mint  insisted  on  for  the  sake  of 
secrecy.  Will  you  join  me  at  dinner  ?  " 

We  walked  down  to  King  street  and  took  a  car.  As 
we  sped  along  I  observed  two  bowed  and  laggard  men 
tramping  along  the  sidewalk.  The  attorney  waved  a 
hand  towards  them  and  said  to  me,  "  I  think  that  the 
matter  of  the  schooner  Mary  E.  Foster,  Guardian,  may 
be  considered  purely  as  an  historical  incident." 

I  considered  this  for  a  time  and  responded,  "  I  shall, 
of  course,  have  to  make  my  report." 

He  took  me  up :  "  Your  final  report  ?  " 

I  turned  and  looked  back  up  the  hot,  bustling  street 
and  discerned  the  figures  of  two  men,  evidently  seamen, 
tramping  side  by  side.  From  over  the  roofs  of  the 
warehouses  I  heard  the  roar  of  the  surf  on  the  reef. 
The  attorney  spoke  again :  "  They  will  never  see  her 
again." 

"  Then  I  might  state,  informally,  that  I  see  no  good 
ground  for  proceeding  further,"  I  said.  "  The  facts 
in  the  case  show  that  they  acted  in  what  one  might 
call  a  purely  unselfish  capacity.  I  believe  the  law 
does  not  contemplate  the  punishment  of  fools  for  their 
folly." 

I  have  often  thought  over  the  affair  (Mr.  Garfinkle 
said,  folding  up  the  clippings  and  putting  them  back 


THE    MARY    E.    FOSTER       217 

in  the  wallet)  and  I  do  not  see  what  interests  would 
have  been  subserved  by  a  course  of  action  other  than 
I  followed.  But  I  wish  you  to  note  that  legally  the 
schooner  Mary  E.  Foster  foundered  on  June  12th,  1891, 
about  300  miles  east  of  Koke  Head. 


T.    HALDANE'S    BEQUEST 

"  HE  's  worth  millions,"  Captain  Buffle  told  us,  with 
a  straight  glance  at  the  bulky  figure  treading  the  white 
main  deck  of  the  Solano.  "  That 's  T.  Haldane,  the 
big  broker." 

"  Why  is  he  traveling  on  this  schooner  ? "  Mrs. 
White  inquired.  "  I  should  think  a  man  with  his  money 
would  take  the  Mongolia  or  the  Miowara  at  least." 

Buffle  ignored  the  implied  slur  on  his  own  small 
vessel  and  shook  his  head.  "  They  say  Haldane  counts 
every  minute  and  makes  it  into  money,"  he  remarked 
with  some  awe.  "  When  he  took  passage  yesterday  in 
Honolulu  I  told  him  we  might  be  three  weeks  making 
the  voyage  to  the  coast.  All  he  said  was,  ( I  'm  travel 
ing  for  my  health.' ' 

We  all  stared  forward  at  the  coarse,  scrupulously 
clad  man  who  was  marching  back  and  forth  below  us. 
He  was  almost  eminent  for  pure  physical  massiveness. 
His  body  was  columnar ;  his  short,  swinging  arms  gave 
the  impression  of  strength.  We  heard  the  fall  of  his 
heavy  feet  on  the  planks.  When  he  turned  toward  us, 
at  the  end  of  his  journey  to  the  foremast,  we  saw  a 
great,  pallid  face,  cleanly  shaven,  set  with  heavy-lidded 
eyes  that  peered  out  over  his  puffy  cheeks  with  a  gross 
and  imperative  glance.  Mrs.  White,  thinned  by  years 


T.    HALDANE'S    BEQUEST    219 

down  under  the  line  and  strained  by  the  mental  effort 
to  overlay  a  mosaic  of  heathenism  with  the  good  lac 
quer  of  religion,  allowed  an  expression  of  distaste  to 
show  in  her  face.  Her  husband,  flushing  slowly,  said 
only :  "I  wonder  if  he  could  be  induced  to  give  our 
mission  enough  money  to  insure  its  growth?  Possibly 
this  is  providential,  this  meeting.  In  three  weeks  I 
can  present  —  " 

GBuffle  laughed  harshly.  "  If  you  get  a  penny  out  of 
Haldane  you  '11  do  more  than  all  the  widows  and  or 
phans  in  the  United  States.  Haldane  eats  'em  alive. 
They  say  even  the  big  men  in  New  York  are  afraid 
of  him." 

"  How  did  he  make  his  money  ?  "  the  missionary 
asked. 

"  His  father  was  Haldane  of  the  old  Cross  Line 
across  the  Atlantic.  Old  Haldane  was  a  hummer,  he 
was.  Shipmaster,  mate,  or  sailor  —  he  beat  'em  all. 
I  Ve  heard  the  yarn  that  one  voyage,  when  he  was 
already  worth  a  million,  he  shipped  on  one  of  his  own 
vessels  out  of  Boston  as  carpenter  just  for  the  fun 
of  licking  every  man  aboard.  '  I  need  exercise ;  I  'm 
gettin'  too  fat,'  they  say  the  old  man  remarked.  And 
T.  Haldane  got  his  father's  money,  and  went  right  into 
New  York  and  doubled  it.  You  bet  he  don't  go  to 
sea;  not  much.  He  stops  ashore  and  drinks  his  wine 
behind  the  plate-glass  windows  and  watches  the  poor 
people  go  by.  That  'a  Haldane  for  you."  The  skipper 
cocked  an  eye  to  the  topsails  and  shook  his  head  again. 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  Eev.  Mr.  White.     "  In  his 


220    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

good  time  the  Lord  can  draw  money  from  the  rich 
even  as  Moses  drew  water  from  the  rock.  Surely  this 
is  a  great  opportunity." 

We  were  clear  of  Molokai  channel  and  out  in  the 
full  blast  of  the  trades  before  Haldane  descended  into 
the  stuffy  cabin  for  his  first  meal  with  us.  At  table 
one  saw  the  astounding  bulk  of  the  man.  He  over 
flowed  his  chair,  and  his  huge  hands,  resting  on  the 
cloth,  were  purple  monstrosities.  He  ate  sparingly  and 
drank  immoderately,  much  to  the  disgust  of  Mrs.  White, 
who  took  pains  to  sniff  loudly  each  time  that  Haldane 
tilted  the  black  bottle  over  his  glass.  But  such  rebukes 
did  n't  even  penetrate  the  man's  skin.  He  said  nothing, 
looked  at  no  one;  merely  ate,  drank,  and  peered  into 
space  through  his  shuttered  eyes.  When  his  meal  was 
finished,  he  got  up  without  apology,  trod  the  creaking 
steps  to  the  deck,  and  resumed  his  walk. 

For  a  week  we  dozed,  slept,  ate,  and  lounged  under  the 
awnings.  The  warm  breath  of  the  wind  blew  constantly 
over  us,  filling  the  sails  and  sending  the  schooner  swing 
ing  to  the  north.  All  that  time  Haldane  walked  and 
drank.  The  sun  seemed  to  have  no  effect  on  his  un 
wholesome  skin,  and  the  pallor  of  it  sank  in  and  in, 
as  a  bone  whitens.  He  exchanged  no  words,  even  with 
the  missionary,  who  timidly  made  advances  at  every 
opportunity.  Usually  these  attempts  at  conversation 
were  met  by  a  stare;  once  in  a  while  Haldane  would 
stop,  look  over  the  bulwarks  at  the  running  sea,  and 
grunt  inarticulately. 

But  when  the  wind  died  and  the  Solano  rocked  on 


T.    HALDANE'S    BEQUEST 

the  mirror  of  the  ocean  with  crash  of  swinging  booms 
and  occasional  loud  clatter  of  gear,  the  millionaire,  as 
we  now  called  him,  ceased  his  walks  perforce  and  took 
refuge  with  us  under  the  quarter-deck  awning.  Here 
he  sat  stubbornly  in  a  big  chair,  his  purple  hands  on 
his  knees,  his  eyes  fixed  resolutely  on  vacancy.  Once, 
or  twice,  it  may  be,  he  acknowledged  Mrs.  White's 
presence  by  a  nod  and  a  dull  glance.  The  rest  of  the 
time  he  broke  the  silence  only  at  midday  when  the 
captain  got  up  from  his  seat  on  the  bitts  with  his  slate 
in  hand  and  announced  the  day's  run.  Then  Haldane 
would  say,  very  loudly,  "  We  must  have  a  breeze  pretty 
soon."  He  did  not  say  it  as  a  suggestion,  a  prophecy, 
or  a  hope;  he  gave  utterance  to  it  as  a  command. 

Each  dawn  found  us  swinging  in  the  midst  of  the 
windless  circle  of  the  sea. 

A  week  of  it  brought  even  Mr.  White  to  nervous 
irritability.  He  fumed  and  fussed,  very  gently,  to  be 
sure ;  but  still  his  mood  was  one  of  wrath  and  rebellion 
at  destiny.  He  would  peer  at  the  chart  and  ask  the 
captain  questions  without  end,  shaking  his  gaunt  head 
at  the  skipper's  crabbed  replies.  We  all  of  us  burned 
with  dull  indignation  and  sought  some  vent  for  it.  We 
pitched  on  Haldane. 

You  would  have  supposed  that  we  were  afraid  of 
him.  He  represented  wealth  and  power  and  condign 
cruelty.  But  somehow,  out  on  the  Pacific,  we  grew 
a  vast  contempt  for  him.  We  scanned  his  crude  bulk 
with  scorn  hardly  concealed.  We  talked  over  him; 
threw  our  remarks  around  him;  ignored  him  mali- 


222    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

ciously.  And  all  the  time  he  sat  motionless  in  his  chair, 
his  pallid  face  glistening  with  sweat,  his  purple  hands 
swollen  on  his  knees,  and  drank  and  drank  and  drank, 
as  though  the  liquor  that  poured  down  his  throat  went 
to  cool  a  terrific  thirst  that  was  infinite  and  unap 
peasable. 

Oh,  we  knew  him  thoroughly  inside  of  eight  days. 
We  had  plumbed  his  greed  and  estimated  his  power. 
He  might  impose  upon  crowded  people  in  cities.  New 
York  might  be  afraid  of  Haldane,  and  men  might 
cringe  to  him.  But  we  knew  him  too  well,  the  upstart ! 
He  had  been  left  money  by  his  father,  and  by  dull 
tenacity  he  trebled  his  fortune.  But  he  was  a  dunce 
and  a  fool.  He  was  hardly  human.  He  had  no  soul. 
He  was  an  immense  parasite,  that 's  what  he  was,  we 
said.  He  had  grown  like  a  mushroom  on  a  muck-heap. 
He  was  an  unwholesome  embodiment  of  stupid  greed. 
He  was  a  mere  gross  body  inhabited  by  an  impure 
and  avaricious  spirit. 

We  said  so  openly.  Mr.  White  directed  his  prayers 
against  him.  Mrs.  White  talked  before  his  face  of 
drunkenness  and  vileness.  Captain  Buffle  sneered  at 
the  degenerate  son  of  the  respected  shipmaster  of  the 
Cross  Line.  Even  I,  used  to  torrid  weeks  on  a  small 
sailing-vessel,  took  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  seeing  how 
close  bitter  personalities  could  come  to  moving  the 
stupendous  conceit  of  the  fellow.  We  baited  him  like 
a  bear  in  a  pit.  But  without  result.  He  continued 
to  stare  out  of  his  flesh-enfolded  eyes  with  a  stony  and 
imperturbable  look.  He  drank  thirstily. 


T.   HALDANE'S    BEQUEST    223 

The  ninth  day  of  the  calm  a  slight  darkening  of 
the  East  gave  us  hope  of  wind.  The  oily  swells  began 
to  ripple  a  little.  Far  up  above  us  hairs  of  cloud 
floated  on  some  imperceptible  gale.  Buffle  watched 
the  swinging  booms  with  anxious  eyes  while  the  mate 
leaned  over  the  bulwarks  in  the  breast  of  the  schooner 
and  viewed  the  water  with  surly  intentness.  Myself,  I 
consulted  the  barometer  and  found  it  falling.  At  sun 
down  it  had  dropped  a  half-inch  since  noon,  and  still 
there  was  no  wind  to  fill  the  sails.  "  We  '11  get  the 
breeze  about  midnight,"  Buffle  announced. 

But  midnight  came,  and  the  booms  still  swept  back 
and  forth  clangorously.  The  watch  came  on  deck  sleep 
ily,  and  the  mate  stared  upward  with  an  expression 
of  doubt  on  his  face.  "  I  b'lieve  I  '11  take  in  them 
tops'ls,"  he  announced  to  the  captain.  Buffle  shook 
his  head.  "  The  glass  is  going  down  very  slowly,"  he 
responded.  "  It 's  only  a  breeze  and  we  must  make 
the  most  of  it.  It  ought  to  be  along  now,  too.  If  she  's 
anyways  fair,  set  the  spinnaker,  too." 

I  slept  on  deck  after  the  watch  had  been  changed. 
Across  from  me  Haldane  dozed  in  his  chair,  his  big 
head  on  his  breast.  I  could  hear  his  stertorous  in 
spirations.  Buffle  went  below,  and  the  mate  sucked 
at  his  pipe  by  the  weather  rail. 

Four  o'clock  came  and  the  Solano  still  rocked  on  a 
breathless  sea.  Above  us  overcast  stars  glimmered  with 
feeble  light,  and  the  sharp  edge  of  the  horizon  was 
dimmed  by  exhalations  of  vapor.  Captain  Buffle  came 
on  deck  and  smelt  the  air.  The  mate  growled  some 


224    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

inarticulate  words,  and  then  I  heard  Buffle's  sharp 
answer.  "No;  we'll  take  in  nothing.  Let  the  watch 
go  below.  Is  the  spinnaker  bent  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  I  'm  afraid  of  the 
looks  of  the  weather,  sir.  I  think  it  will  break  out  of 
the  southward." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  retorted  Buffle.  "  It  '11  give 
us  a  good  shove  on  our  way.  We  ought  to  make  the 
coast  in  a  week." 

The  dawn  kindled,  sent  up  a  spurt  of  light,  glowed 
furiously,  and  then  died  down  again  in  extraordinary 
fashion.  Buffle,  his  mouth  open,  witnessed  this,  peered 
along  his  ship  in  the  fresh  darkness,  and  then  yelled 
an  order.  The  men  clambered  out  of  the  forecastle. 
Even  the  cook  came  in  answer  to  that  fierce  cry.  I 
saw  him  emerge  from  the  galley  with  a  pot  in  one 
hand,  stare  aft,  and  then  set  the  pot  on  the  deck  with 
a  deliberate  motion,  exactly  in  the  way  of  the  mate 
plunging  forward  with  a  roar.  Three  men  appeared 
(very  dimly)  in  the  weather  shrouds.  Then  the  sky 
immediately  above  us  opened  slowly,  allowed  a  tre 
mendous  light  to  flash  on  us  and  closed  again  with  a 
terrific  peal.  I  jumped  to  the  cuddy  steps  and  stuck 
there,  clawing  at  the  side  rail.  For  the  Solano  was 
being  forced  backward  by  some  overwhelming  and 
silent  force. 

The  blackness  was  appalling.  I  could  barely  see  the 
sheen  of  the  sails  above  me,  but  I  could  distinctly  hear 
the  crack  and  give  of  the  masts,  the  slow  tearing  of 
the  cordage,  and  the  gurgling  of  the  water  under  the 


Even  the  cook  came  in  answer  to  that  fierce  cry. 

Page  224 


T.    HALDANE'S    BEQUEST    225 

schooner's  stern.  The  wind  had  come  on  us  like  an 
explosion,  from  dead  ahead,  the  boom  tackles  had  not 
been  cast  off,  the  head  sails  were  not  abroad,  and 
we  were  being  driven  astern  while  the  shouting  crew 
tried  to  cast  off  tackles  and  give  the  schooner  a 
chance  for  her  life.  The  comparative  quiet  was  very 
odd. 

While  I  stood  in  the  cuddy-way  a  huge  bulk  sud 
denly  got  in  front  of  me,  and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Haldane  going  down  on  deck.  He  could  hardly  have 
reached  it  when  with  a  roar  the  gear  carried  away 
forward,  the  foretopmast  went  by  the  board,  and  the 
schooner  swung  round  slowly  to  the  tune  of  banging 
canvas,  crashing  gaffs,  and  ripping  shrouds.  For  the 
second  time  the  horizon  grew  light.  The  sun  rose 
through  a  mass  of  whirling  cloud  and  lit  up  a  foamy, 
wind-swept  circle  of  sea  through  the  middle  of  which 
the  schooner  sagged  sickly  along,  half  dismantled.  The 
squall  went  by  and  we  rocked  wildly  in  broken  water 
for  five  minutes.  Then  the  gale  burst  upon  us  from 
the  southwest. 

We  worked  all  morning  to  get  the  poor  vessel  in 
shape.  But  we  made  little  progress.  The  foremast 
quit  us,  the  main  topmast  was  broken  off  and  flung 
completely  clear,  and  the  mizzen  tottered  between 
shivering  stays.  The  main  gaff  stuck  up  out  of  the 
smashed  deck  by  the  pump,  just  as  it  had  brought  up 
after  plumping  clean  through  the  planks  endwise. 
Forward  a  few  rags  of  canvas  beat  on  the  bowsprit. 
On  the  forecastle-head  the  spinnaker  boom  lay  across 


226    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

two  boats  which  it  had  split  into  kindling-wood  as  it 
fell. 

This  was  not  so  bad,  but  the  rising  sea  soon  showed 
us  that  the  schooner  was  leaking.  We  tackled  the 
pumps,  the  fly-wheels  spun,  and  two  streams  of  muddy 
brine  flowed  out  over  the  deck.  The  carpenter  reported 
six  feet  of  water  in  the  hold.  For  the  first  time  I 
heard  Haldane's  voice.  He  was  across  from  me,  his 
great  hands  on  a  pump-bar,  his  vast  shoulders  going 
up  and  down  as  we  pumped.  "  We  shall  have  to  take 
to  the  boat,"  he  said  in  a  loud,  commanding  tone.  He 
pumped  on,  as  though  he  had  spoken  and  that  finished 
it.  I  was  amazed  at  the  man's  strength  and  energy. 

In  a  few  hours  the  gale  had  blown  itself  out  and 
we  were  leaving  the  wreck  in  the  single  boat  left  un 
injured.  The  cook  had  stowed  it  well  with  provisions 
and  water,  Buffle  had  passed  down  his  instruments, 
and  the  mate  was  fending  us  off  from  the  schooner's 
low  side  with  the  steering-oar.  "  Why  does  n't  Haldane 
come  ? "  Buffle  demanded,  looking  down  at  us. 

"  I  am  here,"  said  Haldane,  appearing  behind  him. 

We  watched  him  slip  over  the  side  and  deposit  his 
great  weight  in  our  little  craft  with  many  misgivings. 
One  of  the  seamen  went  so  far  as  to  scowl  at  him 
and  murmur  a  protest.  Haldane  turned  with  amazing 
quickness  and  stared  at  the  poor  fellow  with  paralyzing 
fixity.  Then  he  sat  down.  Buffle  swung  himself  down 
among  us,  the  mate  thrust  the  boat  away,  and  we 
dipped  off  on  the  next  swell.  Then  the  men  got  out 
their  oars  and  we  started  on  the  long,  toilsome  voyage 


T.    HALDANE'S    BEQUEST      227 

to  the  coast,  eight  hundred  miles  away.  There  were 
twelve  of  us  crowded  into  the  boat.  We  had  food  and 
water  for  two  weeks.  Owing  to  the  smallness  of  the 
boat  —  the  others  could  not  be  repaired  —  nobody  had 
been  able  to  bring  anything  with  him,  except  Mr. 
White,  whose  Bible  stuck  out  of  his  pocket.  Haldane 
held  a  small  wallet  in  his  hand. 

The  next  three  days  passed  with  intense  slowness. 
The  principal  memory  I  have  of  this  period  is  that 
the  moon,  being  in  the  full,  shone  down  on  us  with 
great  brightness  at  night  and  that  Haldane  insisted 
on  sitting  under  the  paltry  shade  of  his  handkerchief, 
which  he  elevated  above  him  on  three  slivers  of  wood 
stuck  into  his  hat.  We  laughed  at  him  and  he  said 
nothing,  except  that  he  nodded  when  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
White  followed  his  example,  using  a  bit  of  sail  cloth. 
"  I  have  observed,"  the  missionary  explained,  "  that 
the  light  of  the  full  moon  is  bad  for  people  with  poor 
circulation." 

Probably  he  was  quite  right,  for  I  think  it  was  to 
the  effect  of  the  dazzling  moonlight  that  our  troubles 
of  the  next  days  were  due.  First,  our  food  spoiled. 
It  had  to  be  thrown  overboard.  Then  the  water  went 
bad  in  the  cask,  leaving  us  only  enough  for  two  days 
in  a  smaller  receptacle.  As  we  rowed  constantly  — 
there  was  no  fair  wind  and  the  sun  was  broiling  hot 
—  the  lack  of  water  became  a  serious  business  in  a 
very  few  hours.  Very  likely  it  was  lucky  that  the  food 
rotted  first,  or  else  .we  should  have  had  more  trouble 
than  we  did  go  through,  which  was  horrible  enough, 


228    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

of  course.  I  shall  not  enlarge.  At  the  end  of  the 
sixth  day  in  the  small  boat  there  were  just  six  of  us 
left:  Mr.  and  Mrs.  White,  Haldane,  Buffle,  the  mate, 
and  myself.  The  good  water  was  all  gone,  except  a 
single  quart.  There  was  nothing  to  eat  but  a  few 
biscuit  crumbs.  Buffle  was  dying  of  a  wound  he  had 
received  in  a  struggle  with  a  crazed  sailor,  and  the 
mate  was  only  half  conscious  and  continually  combed 
his  grizzled  hair  with  his  fingers,  like  a  sleepy  child. 
The  missionary  crouched  on  a  thwart  with  his  Bible 
open  before  him.  His  wife  lay  quietly  back  on  a  bit 
of  sail  cloth,  her  blue-veined  face  turned  to  the  sapphire 
sky.  In  the  sternsheets  sat  Haldane,  his  great  pallid 
countenance  set  upon  some  invisible  point  to  which 
we  were  making.  Haldane  had  taken  command  when 
Buffle  finally  gave  up  the  struggle  to  lie  and  think 
of  his  approaching  end.  It  had  been  Haldane's  bull 
strength  that  saved  us  from  the  vicious  attack  of  thirsty 
madmen,  his  calm  authority  that  forbade  the  wasteful 
excess  which  the  remainder  of  us  would  have  indulged 
in  as  a  sort  of  defiant  revel  before  dying.  Now,  as 
the  sun  went  down  the  western  sky,  he  held  the  loom 
of  the  steering-oar  in  a  powerful  grasp  while  I  rowed. 
Our  progress  was  infinitesimal.  That,  Haldane  had 
said  comfortingly,  did  not  matter.  "  We  shall  be 
picked  up  by  a  passing  vessel,"  he  rumbled. 

The  bottle  containing  the  fresh  water  and  the  bag 
of  biscuit  crumbs  lay  between  his  huge  legs. 

In  the  night  Buffle  died,  White  praying  fervidly 
through  cracked  lips  for  his  departing  soul.  The  last 


T.    HALDANE'S    BEQUEST    229 

moments  were  broken  by  Mrs.  White's  attempt  to  spill 
our  remaining  water  down  the  dying  man's  throat. 
Haldane  had  silently  grasped  the  bottle  (she  had  it 
already  tipped  over  Buffle's  gaping  mouth)  and  put  it 
back  with  the  crackers.  "  But  he  is  dying !  "  Mrs. 
White  sobbed  wildly.  "  Give  him  water !  " 

"  Water !  "  Buffle  gasped,  his  head  rolling  on  the 
thwart. 

But  Haldane  was  deaf,  and  simply  gazed  out  across 
the  sea  through  his  puffy-lidded  eyes. 

When  Buffle  was  dead,  Mrs.  White  stumbled  to 
Haldane's  feet  and  reviled  him.  "  You  will  see  us  all 
perish,  you  brute !  "  she  cried  at  him.  "  You  use  your 
strength  to  keep  the  water  for  yourself !  " 

He  did  not  notice  her. 

When  it  was  dark  I  drew  in  my  oars  and  dozed.  I 
wakened  many  times  and  saw  Haldane  still  at  the 
steering-oar,  still  silent,  still  immovable.  Just  before 
dawn  he  held  out  the  bottle  of  water  to  Mrs.  White. 
"  Drink  one  swallow,  and  give  it  to  your  husband/' 
he  said. 

She  put  the  vessel  to  her  lips  and  I  expected  to 
see  her  gulp  down  a  cupful.  But  instead  she  merely 
tasted  it  and  passed  the  bottle  on  to  her  husband. 
He  sipped  a  little  and  returned  to  his  Bible.  I  then 
drank  a  little  and  was  handing  it  on  to  the  mate  when 
Haldane  said  quietly,  "  Pass  the  bottle  to  me." 

I  don't  know  why,  but  I  obeyed.  The  drowsing 
mate  made  no  sign  that  he  had  heard.  Haldane  corked 
the  bottle  and  tucked  it  between  his  legs  again.  Later 


230    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

he  opened  his  lips  to  say :  "  If  the  mate  can  hold  out 
long  enough,  that  water  in  the  keg  will  be  good  again. 
Rotten  water  always  gets  good  again." 

"  But  you  have  n't  had  a  drink  yourself,"  I  sug 
gested.  He  did  not  answer  me.  In  the  afternoon  we 
got  a  fine  breeze  from  the  westward  and  Haldane  and 
I  hoisted  the  sail.  That  night  Mrs.  White  and  her 
husband  finished  the  fresh  water. 

At  noon  the  next  day  the  mate  got  up  slowly,  washed 
his  face  and  hands  in  the  sea  water,  scanned  some 
invisible  tops'ls  in  the  sky,  croaked  out  an  inarticulate 
order,  and  fell  overboard  like  a  stone.  In  the  silence 
that  followed  the  missionaries'  ejaculated  prayer, 
Haldane  emitted  a  calm  sentence,  "  He  could  not 
wait." 

The  next  forty-eight  hours  we  spent  in  the  miser 
able  business  of  waiting  for  the  water  in  our  remaining 
cask  to  clear  up.  I  suppose  it  had  never  been  very 
good.  It  seethed  and  gave  up  vile  odors  to  our  parched 
nostrils;  it  even  foamed  in  filthy  scum  over  the  staves 
around  the  bung.  In  that  period  we  drew  closer, 
White  and  his  wife  and  I,  to  the  strong,  swollen- 
visaged  man  who  ruled  us.  For  he  gave  us  hope  and 
somewhat  of  his  own  infinite  endurance.  I  fancy 
that  we  drew  out  of  his  very  heart  those  hot  hours. 
I  see  him  yet,  his  unwieldly  bulk  squeezed  between 
the  gunwales  of  our  little  boat,  his  blistered,  purple 
hand  on  the  oar,  his  hanging  jaws  set  in  grim,  harsh 
lines,  his  eyes  looking  out  of  their  fat  sockets  with 
incredible  and  serene  confidence.  He  was  gross, 


T.    HALDANE'S    BEQUEST    231 

drunken,  cruel,  selfish,  greedy,  soulless,  predatory. 
He  looked  it.  And  yet  he  poured  round  us  the  supreme 
mightiness  of  his  self-centered  spirit.  He  enveloped  us 
in  the  garment  of  his  own  sufficiency  against  God  and 
His  world.  He  scorned  even  the  ravenous  sea.  He 
lifted  no  eyelid  at  Death.  He  seemed  without  thirst, 
without  hunger,  without  weakness,  eternally  confront 
ing  destiny  with  imperturbable  and  astounding  calm. 

Even  White  would  involuntarily  release  his  eyes 
from  the  pages  of  the  Bible  and  seek  that  huge  visage 
as  a  child  looks  for  help  in  a  man's  face.  Mrs.  White, 
whose  heart  flamed  within  her  as  she,  woman-like, 
thought  over  all  that  had  happened,  now  and  again 
peered  up  at  him  with  a  tremulous  glance  of  hope. 
And  at  great  intervals  —  hours  apart  —  he  would  say, 
without  looking  at  her,  "  We  must  wait  till  the  water 
is  good."  He  steered  steadily  eastward. 

In  the  cool  of  the  third  night  after  the  mate  left  us 
the  water  in  the  cask  subsided.  At  dawn  I  dipped 
into  it  and  brought  the  bottle  up  filled  with  clear 
liquid.  We  drank  sparingly.  White  croaked  a  thanks 
giving. 

Two  more  days  passed  and  still  the  westerly  wind 
held,  and  we  slowly  forged  our  path  toward  land. 
Then  the  wind  settled  down  in  the  east  and  our  frail 
craft  tossed  miserably  over  the  chop.  I  noticed  that 
Haldane  no  longer  took  his  share  of  water.  Besides 
this  I  saw  a  strange  thing  about  him  —  his  great  pallor 
seemed  to  be  breaking  up  like  a  shell.  His  skin  hung 
in  folds  over  his  shrunken  features.  His  hands  alone 


kept  their  former  size.  His  forehead  assumed  a  glassy 
look,  as  if  it  were  polished.  But  he  gave  no  sign  of 
weakness.  I  cannot  even  say  that  he  slept.  None  of 
us  ever  saw  him  close  his  eyes. 

Lack  of  food  now  made  itself  felt.  Mrs.  White  was 
too  weak  to  sit  up,  and  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat, 
sighing.  Her  husband  read  his  Bible  by  fits  and  starts, 
but  mostly  stared  out  to  the  eastward  as  if  he,  too, 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  invisible  goal  on  which 
Haldane's  eyes  were  set.  Yet  his  mind  wandered. 
Now  and  then  he  prayed  with  startling  unction.  Again 
he  would  mutter  texts  in  an  unknown  tongue.  At 
such  times  Haldane  would  stare  more  profoundly  than 
ever  across  the  windy  sea  and  his  shrunken  face  would 
assume  a  faint  color,  as  though  the  blood  were  driven 
by  an  effort  of  his  terrific  will  into  the  outer  vessels. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  long  we  had  thus  suffered 
when  I  woke  from  my  doze  over  the  oars  to  hear 
White's  voice  rising  energetically  behind  me.  I  glanced 
over  my  shoulder  and  saw  the  missionary  kneeling 
on  a  thwart,  his  closed  Bible  under  an  arm,  the  other 
arm  stretched  out  toward  Haldane.  He  was  preaching. 

An  odd  sermon  it  was,  too,  directed  at  Haldane,  the 
millionaire.  White  described  him  as  he  was  —  a  cold, 
heartless,  money-grabbing  capitalist.  He  didn't  spare 
him.  Having  laid  this  foundation,  he  warned  him  of 
the  consequences  of  hardening  his  heart  against  the 
cry  of  the  Lord's  poor,  read  him  the  law  in  words  of 
fire,  and  wound  up  by  asking  him  to  contribute  ten 
thousand  dollars  to  the  Kaukama  Island  Mission. 


T.    HALDANE'S    BEQUEST    233 

It  sounds  comic.  But  It  lost  that  aspect  inside  of 
three  days.  For  after  the  sermon  was  over,  White 
delivered  part  of  a  prayer,  slipped  down  beside  his 
wife,  and  stared  sightlessly  at  the  heavens  for  hours. 
Then  he  got  up  and  delivered  the  sermon  all  over  again. 
Again  he  fell  back  by  his  wife  and  was  speechless. 
Again  he  suddenly  roused  up  and  repeated  his  sermon. 
Inside  of  three  days  Haldane  had  listened  to  that 
appeal  a  dozen  times  —  and  never  fluttered  an  eyelid. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  day  I  dished  out  the  water 
all  around  and  answered  Haldane's  inquiring  look  by 
answering,  "  Still  living,  both  of  them."  He  nodded. 
At  midnight  he  stirred  in  his  seat  and  said  in  a  hoarse 
voice,  "  We  are  within  forty  miles  of  the  coast  of 
California.  If  you  use  the  water  sparingly  and  steer 
due  east  as  well  as  you  can,  you  will  be  picked  up 
before  to-morrow  night." 

The  sun  was  setting  behind  him  and  its  effulgence 
glorified  him  for  a  moment.  I  could  not  distinguish 
his  face.  But  he  reached  out  his  huge  hand  and 
dropped  a  paper  and  his  wallet  on  my  knee.  The 
movement  of  the  boat  waked  White,  and  he  stretched 
himself  up  and  croaked,  "  Ten  thousand  dollars  for 
the  saving  of  heathen  souls !  " 

The  sun  dipped,  and  Haldane's  face  started  out  of 
the  glow,  distinct,  pallid,  serene.  His  steady  eyes  fixed 
themselves  on  me  with  a  profound  and  searching  look. 
"  Steer  to  the  east,"  he  said  in  a  strong  voice.  "  You 
will  be  picked  up.  See  that  my  will  is  duly  executed." 

I  started  up  weakly  as  the  loom  of  the  oar  rose 


234    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

slowly  as  his  hand  released  it.  The  huge,  pallid  face 
darkened  swiftly.  The  eyes  in  the  heavy-lidded  sockets 
became  sightless.  A  sigh  —  resolute,  deep,  final  ex 
pression  of  an  immitigable  will  —  breathed  out  over 
us.  Haldane  was  dead. 

He  was  too  heavy  for  me  to  shove  overboard.  So 
I  let  him  stay  as  he  was,  a  stern  figure  of  death.  In 
the  morning  a  steamer  sighted  us  and  took  us  up,  White 
murmuring  snatches  of  his  greatest  and  most  effectual 
sermon,  while  Mrs.  White  sighed  interminably  into 
the  faces  of  the  pitiful  rescuers.  The  next  night  we 
were  in  San  Francisco,  and  two  days  later  I  deposited 
with  Haldane,  McCoy  &  Pitts  the  last  instructions 
of  their  superior.  It  was  written  as  follows: 

"I  instruct  my  executors  to  pay  to  the  order  of  Rev.  J. 
White  the  sum  of  $10,000  to  be  used  by  him  in  his  mission  work 
at  his  own  discretion.  The  further  sum  of  $25,000  I  direct  to 
be  paid  to  Mrs.  Henry  Buffle,  widow  of  Captain  Henry  Buffle 
of  the  schooner  Solano,  as  payment  in  full  for  one  drink  of 
water  contributed  by  her  husband  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  White's 
missionary  cause.  T.  HALDANE." 

When  they  had  read  it,  I  stopped  a  moment  for  a 
question :  "  I  suppose  that  is  all  right  ?  The  money 
will  be  given  to  the  Whites  and  Mrs.  Buffle  ? " 

McCoy  and  Pitts  looked  at  me  coldly.  "  Such  are 
Mr.  Haldane's  orders,"  they  announced  together. 
"  And  Mr.  Haldane  always  had  his  own  way  about 
things.  The  money  will  be  paid.  I  believe  no  one 
would  care  to  dispute  Mr.  Haldane's  wishes,  even  if 
he  has  unfortunately  been  taken  from  us." 


T.    HALDANE'S    BEQUEST    235 

Later  I  attended  Haldane's  funeral.  They  buried 
him  with  pomp.  Mrs.  White,  sitting  weakly  in  her 
hired  carriage,  mourned  the  dead  man  sincerely.  "  He 
must  have  been  such  a  lovely  man!  "  she  whispered. 
"  I  should  have  liked  to  have  thanked  him !  " 

She  wept  bitterly  on  the  edge  of  the  solemn  and 
tearless  crowd. 


THE  OLDEST  JOURNALIST  IN  THE 
SOUTH  SEAS 

I 
THE    PEBSISTENCE    OF    THE    UNINSPIRED 

THE  Oldest  Journalist  in  the  South  Seas  had  just 
come  into  the  hot  reporters'  room  of  the  Honolulu 
"  Advertiser."  The  screen  door,  outside  which  the 
night  mosquitoes  hummed,  slammed  on  the  flying  tail 
of  his  linen  jacket,  and  the  librarian  came  forth  from 
his  dusty  den  to  see  what  stirred.  His  voice  —  he  was 
incredibly  old  —  met  the  Oldest  Journalist  as  he 
crossed  the  cramped  room  to  his  desk.  "  Has  the 
Mauna  Loa  got  in  ?  " 

The  new-comer  nodded  his  head,  tucked  his  rescued 
coat-tail  into  his  breeches  pocket,  scowled  at  the  electric 
light,  and  addressed  the  librarian.  "  Yes.  Beastly 
trip.  Have  you  got  a  cut  of  old  Simpkins  in  that 
graveyard  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Simpkins  ?  Simpkins  ?  "  repeated  the  keeper  of 
our  Colonial  exchanges,  London  "  Times,"  and  copper 
t(  cuts  "  of  the  famous  and  infamous.  "  You  mean 
Simpkins  of  Lanai  ?  " 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    237 

"  I  do  not,"  replied  the  Oldest  Journalist,  throwing 
a  raffle  of  papers  to  the  floor  and  squaring  his  elbows 
to  write.  "  I  mean  Phineas  Simpkins." 

It  was  truthfully  said  that  our  librarian,  whose  life 
was  a  tissue  of  memories  of  the  tropics,  could,  if  given 
time,  remember  anything  about  any  person  who  ever 
impinged  on  the  sphere  that  contains  the  three  social 
circles  of  the  Missionary,  the  Trader,  and  the  Native. 
So  now  he  paused,  his  hand  on  the  screen  door  that 
separated  his  closet  from  ours.  His  dim  eyes  sought 
the  skylight,  through  whose  wired  squares  the  stars 
peered  in.  "  Simpkins,  Simpkins,"  he  whispered 
gently. 

God  knows  the  name  is  nothing  to  conjure  up 
thoughts;  and  yet,  as  that  unbelievably  old  gentleman 
stood  there  murmuring  that  pair  of  ridiculous  syllables, 
his  face  marked  the  course  of  the  backward  tide  of  re 
membrance.  I  dare  say  he  saw  odd  figures  of  whalers- 
men,  gaunt  missionaries,  sallow  traders,  pompous 
attaches  to  forgotten  envoys  from  big  powers  to  petty 
princes  —  a  long  procession  of  Simpkinses ;  at  any 
rate,  he  stood  there  a  full  five  minutes,  while  the 
Oldest  Journalist  growled  over  his  pencil  and  vocifer 
ated  about  the  drying  up  of  his  paste-pot.  Suddenly 
the  librarian  gave  vent  to  a  queer  sound.  It  was 
half  chuckle  of  glee  at  finding  what  he  sought,  half 
grunt  of  incredulity.  "  There  's  only  one  Simpkins 
on  the  Islands  now,"  he  said,  tapping  his  nose  with  his 
eyeglasses.  "  Ha,  ha !  " 

The  Chinese  copyholder,   awaiting  a  correction  on 


238    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

some  proof,  reminded  us  of  his  presence  by  a  feeble, 
tittering  "  Hee,  hee !  "  a  shrill  echo  of  the  librarian's 
laugh.  At  its  sound  the  Oldest  Journalist  suddenly 
flung  himself  upon  a  "  Marine  Register,"  hurled  it  at 
the  Chinaman,  picked  up  his  empty  paste-pot,  and 
slammed  it  on  his  table,  bellowing :  "  Simpkins ! 
Simpkins  of  Molokai !  " 

The  copyholder  fled.  The  librarian  chuckled  again 
and  withdrew  to  gaze  through  his  screen  door  at 
the  Oldest  Journalist.  "  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said 
calmly,  "  of  course  I  have  n't  got  any  cut  of  Simpkins 
of  Molokai.  I  have  the  pictures  of  many  villains 
and  some  fools  in  here,  but  this  paper  is  not 
spending  money  in  buying  copper  half-tones  of 
buffoons." 

"  Buffoon !  "  thundered  the  other,  to  our  intense 
amazement.  "  Why,  you  senile  old  scrapbook  maker, 
how  dare  you  ?  "  And  the  Oldest  Journalist  flung  out 
of  the  office.  He  did  not  return  for  fifteen  minutes, 
and  we  heard  the  librarian  pottering  over  his  files, 
muttering  continually  and  scornfully,  "  Simpkins  of 
Molokai!" 

The  next  quarter  of  an  hour  saw  the  staff  vanish, 
except  myself,  who  had  to  see  the  paper  to  press  after 
deciphering  and  expanding  the  cablegram  from  San 
Francisco.  It  was  very  warm,  and  the  mosquitoes 
hummed  under  the  lights,  while  I  sought  refuge  in 
tobacco.  The  Oldest  Journalist  came  back  quietly  and 
resumed  his  pencil.  The  librarian  slipped  out  of  his 
sanctum,  looked  at  the  Oldest  Journalist  (they  were 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    239 

thirty-year  friends)  with  a  glance  of  mild  pity,  and 
vanished,  as  the  extremely  old  and  emaciated  dor  with 
a  delicate  and  paperish  sound.  The  "  late  watch  "  had 
begun. 

I  picked  up  the  last  number  of  the  Shanghai  "  Bund  " 
to  read  of  the  doings  of  a  Council  in  which  I  had  no 
possible  interest  and  puzzle  at  the  initials  of  scandalous 
personages  of  whom  I  had  never  heard.  The  Oldest 
Journalist's  pencil  scraped  on.  The  Chinese  copyholder 
emerged  from  time  to  time  and  inquired  in  his  shrill 
English  as  to  the  spelling  of  ponderous  words  in  the 
"  old  man's  "  leader ;  the  foreman  came  in  to  inquire 
about  the  "  cable,"  and  its  probable  lateness,  and  to 
anathematize,  as  he  had  done  nightly  since  we  had  been 
united  to  the  Coast  by  a  "  wire,"  the  slowness,  ignorance, 
and  presumable  inebriety  of  the  man  in  San  Francisco 
whose  duty  it  was  to  summarize  the  diary  of  the  world 
in  seventy-five  words.  The  proof-reader,  gentlest  of 
souls,  whose  wife  in  Denver  was  his  sole  thought  — 
apart  from  the  mosquitoes  —  dropped  in  to  inquire 
when  the  next  steamer  with  mail  from  the  States  might 
reasonably  be  expected.  The  telephone  rang  to  an 
nounce  that  a  Japanese  on  trial  for  his  life  at  Hilo 
had  been  acquitted  per  wireless.  Still  the  Oldest  Jour 
nalist  wrote  on. 

"  You  'd  better  rush  if  you  're  going  to  get  your  last 
car  for  Kaimuki,"  I  suggested  finally. 

He  threw  down  his  pencil  and  bit  savagely  at  the 
end  of  a  woe-begone  cigar.  "  Did  that  imbecile  libra 
rian  find  a  cut  of  Simpkins  ? "  he  demanded. 


240    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  He  scorned  you,"  I  said  tranquilly.  "  He  pooh- 
poohed  you  and  Simpkins  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  and 
faded." 

"  I  Ve  got  to  have  a  picture  to  run  with  this  story," 
said  the  Oldest  Journalist  decidedly. 

"  Is  it  a  good  yarn  ? "  I  asked,  professionally 
interested. 

"  Not  so  you  would  see  it  in  print,"  was  the  curt 
answer. 

"  Who  was  this  Simpkins  ?  "  I  continued. 

"  He  was  the  great  example  of  the  Persistence  of  the 
Uninspired,"  the  Oldest  Journalist  responded,  pushing 
the  shade  back  from  his  eyes  and  lighting  his  cigar. 
"  He  is  dead." 

"  Funny  I  never  heard  of  him,"  I  mused,  "  in  view 
of  the  fact  that  you  are  writing  columns  about  him  and 
asking  for  a  picture  to  embellish  the  obituary.  Was 
he  a  prince  or  potentate  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  never  heard  of  him,"  was  the  tart 
rejoinder.  "  That 's  why  I  'm  writing  all  this.  This  is 
news." 

He  resumed  his  pencil  for  a  moment  and  then  paused, 
looked  over  at  me,  and  slowly  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 
"  I  wish  you  'd  go  into  old  Scrapbook's  sanctum  and  go 
through  all  the  cuts  to  see  if  there  is  n't  one  of  a  fat 
man  with  a  chin  whisker  and  bald  head,"  he  remarked. 
"  An  old  picture  of  Napoleon  III  might  pass.  Nobody 
here  will  know  the  difference." 

It  happened  that  we  did  have  a  dusty  copper  en 
graving  of  the  lamented  Emperor  of  the  French.  The 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    241 

Oldest  Journalist  blew  the  dust  off  it,  gazed  at  the 
lineaments  depicted  on  the  metal,  and  nodded.  "  That  '11 
do  all  right.  Just  write  a  caption  to  run  under  it: 
'  Phineas  Simpkins,  who  died  widely  mourned  by  the 
community  in  which  he  lived  and  bore  a  prominent 
part.'  Get  that  ?  " 

He  took  off  his  jacket  and  returned  to  his  writing. 
A  little  later  he  glanced  up  to  remark,  "  I  'm  not  as 
crazy  as  people  will  think  I  am  to-morrow." 

"  You  evidently  ignore  my  opinion  of  to-night,"  I 
replied. 

The  Oldest  Journalist  stopped,  picked  out  of  the  mass 
of  papers  on  his  table  a  small  clipping,  and  tossed  it 
over  to  me.  "  Read  that,"  he  said. 

I  read  the  item,  apparently  cut  many  years  before 
out  of  some  country  weekly  in  the  interior  of  the 
United  States.  "  This  is  the  obituary  of  Thomas  F. 
Adams,"  I  said.  "He  died  on  April  14th,  1879,  in 
Libertyville,  Iowa,  on  his  farm,  after  a  long  illness. 
He  was  much  lamented,  a  good  father  and  a  careful 
business  man,  and  was  a  deacon  in  the  Methodist 
Church.  That 's  all  I  see  in  this.  What  has  it  to  do 
with  Simpkins  of  Molokai  ?  " 

"  The  late  Thomas  F.  Adams,"  the  Oldest  Journalist 
replied,  "  never  knew  Phineas  Simpkins,  nor  was 
Simpkins  in  any  way.  related  to  him,  nor  did  Simpkins 
know  Adams  or  ever  see  him  alive,  nor  had  he  any 
earthly  interest  in  his  death,  burial,  or  obituary,  that 
you  or  I  could  ravel  out.  But  that  eulogy,  printed  in 
that  little  weekly,  is  the  reason  I  'm  writing  this  eulogy 


242    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

in  the  tropics,  and  the  whole  affair  is  the  direct  result 
and  outcome  of  the  Persistence  of  the  Uninspired." 

The  speaker  was  not  a  man  used  to  talking  riddles. 
Indeed,  his  language  was  usually  not  only  plain,  but 
bald.  I  pinned  him  down.  "  Who  is  this  Simpkins 
you  're  talking  about,  anyway  ?  " 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  man  who  never  could  say  an 
interesting  thing  ?  Who  never  had  a  glance  of  the  eye 
that  betokened  anything  behind  it  ?  Who  invariably 
did  the  most  commonplace  act  possible  under  the  cir 
cumstances  ?  Who  bored  you  in  a  crowd  and  staggered 
you  with  his  vacuity  when  you  were  alone  with  him  ? 
Did  you  ever  know  a  man  whose  circle  of  thought 
would  pinch,  the  waist  of  a  peanut,  and  who  incessantly 
attempted  to  converse  by  using  the  worn  phrases  of  any 
fool  who  had  been  with  him  previously  ?  Did  you  ever, 
my  son,  have  to  spend  three  days  on  a  rolling  inter- 
island  steamer  with  a  man  incapable  of  anything  but 
exasperating  dumbness  or  maddening  loquacity  ?  "  The 
Oldest  Journalist's  vigor  was  extreme,  and  he  thumped 
his  paste-pot  on  the  table  resoundingly. 

"  What  did  Simpkins  do  to  you  ?  "  I  pursued,  assum 
ing  his  interrogations  to  be  rhetorical. 

"  Everything !  "  was  the  response.  "  He  achieved 
the  impossible,  and  I  'm  going  to  give  him  a  column  in 
to-morrow's  paper.  Listen.  You  won't  get  this  in  the 
1  Advertiser '  of  to-morrow's  date.  .  .  . 

"  I  can  only  approach  this  thing  chronologically. 
Simpkins  was  born,  apparently  of  commonplace  parents, 
in  a  small  town  in  the  domestic  part  of  Illinois  —  or 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    243 

what  was,  in  his  day.  I  spent  a  year  of  my  young  life 
in  the  Middle  West,  as  they  call  it  now,  and  I  tell  you 
that  no  people  under  the  sun  have  more  virtues  or  less 
curiosity  about  vice  than  those  folk  who  live  back  there 
where  we  never  know  what 's  going  on.  And  Simpkins 
came  from  there;  with  his  little  religion,  his  neglected 
education,  and  his  dullness.  God  knows  what  brought 
him  to  the  South  Seas.  He  had  no  romance  in  his 
make-up,  and  you  could  n't  have  explained  the  word 
'  adventure '  to  him.  He  just  came.  It  happened  to 
be  the  utterly  commonplace  thing  to  do.  And  down 
here  he  merely  '  stayed,'  as  they  say  of  people  whose 
movements  are  directed  by  no  visible  emotions  or  desires. 

"  I  made  his  acquaintance  years  ago.  You  could  n't 
use  the  expression  '  got  to  know  him.'  One  never  can 
know  a  fence-post.  I  laughed  at  him,  just  as  that 
librarian  laughed  to-night.  But  he  took  a  terrible  re 
venge.  He  made  me  a  victim  of  the  Persistence  of  the 
Uninspired!  " 

It  was  comical  to  see  the  Oldest  Journalist's  discon 
certment.  He  was  tremendously  put  out,  and  tore  at 
his  cigar  savagely. 

"  Time  has  nothing  to  do  with  such  people  as 
Simpkins,  except  to  record  their  movements  and  decay. 
But  still,  there  was  a  chronological  sequence  to  this 
history.  First  Simpkins  came  to  Hawaii.  He  stayed. 
He  worked  in  an  utterly  uninspired  way  at  a  most 
prosaic  trade.  He  made  money.  Then  he  went  back 
to  the  States.  Did  n't  go  back  '  home,'  as  everybody 
else  does.  He  merely  '  returned.7  Then  he  came  back 


244    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

here,  and  in  due  course  I  was  shut  up  in  the  same 
cabin  on  the  Likelike  with  him  for  three  days  with 
nobody  to  talk  to. 

"  He  was  speechless  for  three  hours,  and  then  dug 
up  from  memory  a  sentence  about  the  weather.  He 
talked  weather  —  and  there  is  no  such  article  this  thou 
sand  miles  either  way  —  till  I  was  almost  insane.  Then 
he  maundered  about  something  else.  In  a  thousand 
sentences  he  couldn't  wake  a  single  idea.  His  voice, 
his  tone,  his  manner  were  uninspired.  He  was  incapable 
of  anything  like  human  variety  of  thought.  I  loathed 
him  as  I  would  a  street  piano  I  had  heard  for  an 
eternity. 

"  The  third  day  came,  and  the  gale  that  was  piling 
the  surf  up  on  Molokai  moderated.  Simpkins  came  to 
me.  '  If  the  wind  goes  down  awhile,  the  sea  will  be 
smoother/  he  said. 

"  l  Are  you  going  ashore  along  here  ? '  I  demanded. 

"  *  At  Kalaupapa/  he  returned. 

"  Now  you  don't  always  feel  like  asking  a  man  why 
he  's  going  ashore  at  a  leper  colony.  In  those  days  you 
could  get  a  permit  to  go  to  Kalaupapa  almost  any  time. 
It 's  stricter  now.  So  we  lay  off  that  amphitheater  of 
polyglot  misery,  and  Simpkins  got  his  baggage  together. 
As  we  waited  for  the  boat,  he  came  to  say  good-by. 
1 1  'm  going  to  live  there/  he  said.  '  I  think  the  climate 
is  good.' 

"  For  an  instant  I  thought  Simpkins  had  really  a 
brain  working  in  his  head.  It  was  a  ghastly  joke  he 
had  just  cracked.  But  I  actually  liked  him  the  better 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    245 

for  it.  Then  I  found  out  that  it  was  no  joke.  He 
had  n't  the  leprosy.  He  had  nothing  but  his  poor  wit 
less  head  and  money.  Do  you  know  what  he  had  done  ? 
Listen : 

"  He  had  gone  to  the  Health  Officer  here  and  an 
nounced  that  he  wanted  to  go  to  Molokai.  '  Sure,'  said 
the  doctor,  thinking  he  was  urged  by  curiosity,  and 
gave  him  his  pass.  In  due  time  he  landed  through  the 
surf  and  walked  into  the  strangest  town  in  the  world. 
The  steamer  sent  the  last  boat  ashore,  and  the  mate 
yelled  for  Simpkins.  He  did  n't  appear.  The  steamer 
left,  and  a  couple  of  weeks  later  the  Health  Officer 
got  a  letter  from  one  of  the  lunas  of  Molokai  that 
made  him  tear  his  hair.  Simpkins  had  actually  settled 
in  the  leper  colony,  spite  of  the  laws  of  the  kingdom 
and  of  society. 

"  Now,  my  son,  you  're  thinking  of  Father  Damien, 
the  missioners,  and  such.  Forget  all  that.  Simpkins 
was  uninspired.  He  told  me  why  he  did  this  thing, 
and  you  will  probably  laugh  when  you  hear  it.  Fancy 
this  dull  chap  fixing  his  eternal  abode  in  an  accursed 
vale  where  one  hears  only  the  cracked  voice  of  the  leper 
and  sees  only  the  hopeless  living  dead.  It  makes  your 
heart  beat  a  bit  faster,  doesn't  it?  But  look  at  that 
obituary  of  that  obscure  late  lamented  in  Iowa.  It 
was  scribbled  one  afternoon  in  Libertyville  when  the 
willows  were  budding  along  the  muddy  creek  banks, 
and  the  children  were  making  whistles  —  children  who 
have  whistled  many  tunes  since  and  gone  their  ways 
apart.  The  editor  probably  thought  when  he  wrote  those 


246    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

words  that  lie  would  attend  the  auction  of  the  deceased's 
livestock  and  maybe  buy  a  horse  or  a  cow.  But 
Simpkins  is  dead  in  Molokai  because  of  that  paragraph." 

The  Oldest  Journalist  made  an  extraordinary  grimace 
at  the  ceiling  and  flung  his  cigar  butt  against  the  screen 
door.  "  Laugh !  "  he  cried.  "  But  I  must  get  it  off 
my  mind.  I  have  moiled  over  Simpkins  till  I  am  fair 
crazy.  I  am  a  victim,  and  my  only  hope  of  release  is 
this  column  article  in  the  paper  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Don't  get  worked  up  over  it,"  I  remonstrated.  "  It 
is  too  hot.  Out  with  your  story." 

"  There  is  n't  any  story,"  he  wailed.  "  It 's  positively 
the  dullest  affair  you  ever  heard  of.  There  is  n't  any 
inspiration  in  years  of  it. 

"  When  Simpkins  had  got  pretty  much  a  fixture  on 
Molokai,  and  his  reputation  was  hopelessly  compromised, 
and  various  claimants  of  his  wealth  were  agitating 
having  him  declared  incompetent  and  a  guardian  ap 
pointed,  I  went  down  on  the  annual  trip  of  inspection. 
You  know  the  sort :  officials,  some  reporters,  and  a  few 
friends  of  the  Kalaupapans  go  over  for  a  day's  riding 
through  the  settlement,  auditing  of  accounts  and  visiting. 

"  It  was  my  fate  to  go,  a  few  years  back.  I  had 
not  seen  Simpkins  nor  heard  much  of  him,  but  one  of 
the  first  men  I  saw  in  that  town  of  pestilence  was  he. 
He  waddled  along  under  a  ridiculous  sunshade,  his 
fat  arms  bulging  from  a  thin  jacket,  his  whiskers  blow 
ing  in  the  breeze,  his  bald  head  shining  with  perspira 
tion.  It  was  the  most  incongruous  sight  I  ever  saw. 
The  maimed  shuffled  by  with  bound  feet;  the  wind 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    247 

brought  odors  of  antiseptic  and  balm.  Chinese  chat 
tered  along  the  way,  flat  of  voice,  shriveled  of  limb. 
Kanakas  barked  out  greetings  and  smiled  miserably. 
White  men,  carrying  themselves  with  a  final  jauntiness, 
waved  their  dry  arms.  Babies  played  under  the 
papayas,  played  silently.  And  through  this  throng 
waddled  Simpkins,  obtrusively  healthy,  his  full  face 
flushed  with  clean  blood. 

"  He  insisted  on  talking.  I  don't  remember  what  he 
said.  He  bored  me  intensely.  The  visitors  scattered, 
and  by  some  mischance  I  fell  into  the  hands  of  Simpkins, 
alone.  '  You  must  come  up  to  my  house  for  dinner,' 
he  insisted.  '  I  have  had  some  good  chickens  killed. 
We  must  hurry,  because  I  don't  know  whether  you  like 
them  stewed  or  baked.'  And  he  talked  chicken  all  the 
way  to  his  gaudy  house. 

"  It  was  a  queer  mansion  to  rise  among  those  groves 
of  pain.  It  was  painted  a  vile  red,  with  yellow  trim 
mings.  No  vine  grew  over  its  nakedness.  It  sat  in 
a  bare  yard,  through  which  a  gravel  walk  ran  as 
straight  as  a  string.  He  took  me  in  and  immediately 
sat  down  on  a  porch.  '  How  do  you  like  our  town  ? ' 
he  demanded. 

"  I  could  have  struck  him  for  the  sleek  tone  of  those 
outrageous  words.  But  he  wiped  his  forehead  and 
went  on :  '  We  have  made  many  improvements  the  past 
year.  We  have  built  a  theater  with  a  ball  room  over 
it.  We  had  a  wedding  there  two  months  ago.  A  fine 
young  couple,  too.  I  think  they  enjoyed  our  little 
festivities.' 


248    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  Travesty  of  mercy !  I  got  up.  I  could  not  eat 
the  bread  of  such  a  man.  It  suddenly  occurred  to 
me  that  he  had  a  most  devilish  rancour  against  his 
race.  He  was  the  Satan  of  this  unspeakable  hell. 
But  he  was  warmly  hospitable  when  I  rose,  and  called 
for  a  drink  of  beer.  The  servant  —  a  leper  —  shuffled 
out  with  it,  and  we  drank.  Simpkins  nodded  over  his 
beer  and  sighedr  '  I  understand  they  say  in  Honolulu 
I  am  crazy,'  he  remarked  abruptly. 

" '  They  don't  see  why  a  well  man  should  bury 
himself  in  this  asylum  without  any  object,'  I 
paltered. 

"  '  Hum! '  he  ejaculated,  with  an  indescribable  pon- 
derousness.  l  Hum !  ' 

"  '  Personally,'  I  continued,  ( I  fail  to  see  what  you 
came  here  for.  You  came  for  no  charitable  purpose. 
No  one  but  a  brute  could  enjoy  the  sight  of  this  or 
ganized  misery.' 

"  Simpkins  looked  at  me  with  a  puzzled  face.  '  I 
don't  catch  your  meaning,'  he  said. 

"  '  I  mean,'  I  recollect  saying,  '  that  your  coming  here 
is  offensive/ 

"  His  flat  face  became  drawn  in  a  violent  effort  to 
disengage  my  intention  from  my  words.  I  rather  en 
joyed  it.  He  squirmed  in  his  chair,  and  the  sunshade 
(which  he  had  deposited  by  his  side)  rolled  away  and 
off  the  porch.  He  waddled  over  and  with  prodigious 
exertions  recovered  it.  Then  he  sat  down  again  and 
stared  at  me.  '  I  have  no  intention  of  being  offensive 
to  you,'  he  said.  '  You  are  a  friend  of  mine.  T&hy, 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    249 

my  dear  fellow,  I  had  no  intention  whatever  of  being 
offensive,  none  whatever ! ' 

"  What  could  I  say  ?  I  retreated.  I  enlarged  on  the 
fact  that  personally  I  had  nothing  against  him.  I  men 
tioned  that  outside,  in  Honolulu,  the  people  who  had 
known  him  did  not  understand  his  sudden  departure 
and  voluntary  descent  into  a  living  death.  Then  it 
came  out.  I  don't  know  whether  you  will  understand 
it  at  all.  But  I  shall  try  to  be  plain.  Frankly,  I  am 
not  sure  of  all  this  myself  —  that  is,  I  sometimes  think 
I  fail  to  catch  some  vital  point,  some  point  in  the 
Persistence  of  the  Uninspired. 

"  Simpkins  drew  closer  to  me,  hitching  his  chair  up 
the  porch,  with  various  expressions  of  regard.  He 
finally  came  to  rest  and  gazed  at  me  with  a  look  of 
importance.  '  You  see,'  he  said,  *  I  have  a  place  in 
the  community  here.  Really,  my  dear  fellow,  I  am 
one  of  the  principal  men  of  Kalaupapa!  I  was  the 
head  of  the  committee  on  the  new  theater,  and  I  was 
chairman  of  the  floor  committee  of  the  first  ball.  The 
paper  mentioned  me  here  in  flattering  terms.' 

"  I  am  not  going  to  bother  you  with  the  details  of 
his  talk,  except  to  state  that  I  firmly  believe  Simpkins 
had  never  in  his  life  had  a  home.  !No,  he  did  n't  come 
from  Libertyville,  Iowa.  He  came  from  Illinois.  From 
that  village  in  which  he  had  first  lived,  to  the  boisterous 
streets  of  San  Francisco  and  the  dissipations  of  Hono 
lulu,  he  had  been  Simpkins,  plain  Simpkins,  waddling 
on  his  uninspired  way,  meeting  men  whom  he  bored, 
viewing  other  men  honored,  liked,  loved;  the  universal 


250    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

word  of  praise  had  never  fallen  to  his  lot.  You  would 
never  have  suspected  it.  He  was  lonely." 

The  Oldest  Journalist  lit  another  cigar  and  smoked 
in  silence  a  moment.  Then  he  repeated  his  last  word: 
"  Lonely.  You  are  young  and  can  occasionally  catch 
a  friendly  eye  in  the  crowd.  We  both  have  our  pro 
fession,  our  work.  But  sometimes  in  these  warm  seas, 
under  these  gleaming  stars,  I  pause  an  instant  and 
know  what  loneliness  is.  Maybe  it 's  bred  in  our  bones, 
this  Anglo-Saxon  feeling,  in  the  dumbest  of  us,  for 
our  social  life.  Anyway,  I  think  I  understand  Simp- 
kins.  He  wanted  a  place  in  a  community,  to  be  some 
body  —  to  be  chairman  of  the  floor  committee  at  the 
ball  of  a  leper  settlement. 

"  Don't  imagine  he  said  all  this.  He  was  an  un 
utterable  bore  that  afternoon.  Only  I  was  convinced 
that  Simpkins,  in  his  childish  and  unreasoning  desire 
to  have  a  place,  a  social  position,  a  funeral  with 
mourners,  an  obituary,  had  picked  out,  of  all  places 
in  the  world,  Kalaupapa  on  Molokai! 

"  You  saw  old  Scrapbook  giggle  when  I  said  '  Simp- 
kins  of  Molokai '  ?  That  is  the  attitude.  That  seeker 
after  a  place  was  incredibly  dull  and  offensive.  I  be 
lieve  he  never  did  the  right  thing  in  his  life.  He  did 
not  even  catch  the  leprosy,  but  lived  blatantly  healthy 
among  the  dying,  waddling  around  that  afflicted  city, 
pursing  up  his  lips  importantly  over  his  petty  affairs, 
purposely  content.  (  Really,  my  dear  fellow,  I  am  one 
of  the  principal  men  of  Kalaupapa !  ' 

The  foreman  looked  in  to  ask  whether  the  cable  had 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    251 

come.  The  Oldest  Journalist  resumed  his  pencil. 
"  How  about  the  obituary  notice  you  showed  me  ? "  I 
demanded. 

"  Simpkins  saw  it  in  a  paper  and  cut  it  out,"  was 
the  response.  "  In  a  moment  of  confidence  yesterday, 
when  he  was  dying,  he  showed  it  to  me.  He  was  infelici 
tous  to  the  last.  '  Something  like  this  might  be  appro 
priate,'  he  told  me.  Thrust  it  into  my  hands,  you  know, 
with  an  anxiety  worthy  of  a  little  politician  crazy  to 
have  his  name  in  the  paper.  I  suppose  he  had  nursed 
the  hope  for  twenty  years  that  some  day  he  would  have 
an  obituary  like  that.  But  imagine  the  audacity  of 
his  insisting  that  I  write  it  so.  Pah !  " 

I  mused  over  this,  and  the  foreman  came  in  again. 
"  Look  here,"  he  said  angrily.  "  Is  this  the  best  picture 
you  've  got  for  the  front  page  to-morrow  ?  Simpkins 
of  Molokai!  Why,  he  was  crazy!  People  will  laugh 
at  the  paper." 

The  Oldest  Journalist  looked  up.  "  I  've  got  a  column 
story  to  go  with  that,"  he  said  severely.  "  What  busi 
ness  is  it  of  yours,  anyway  ?  " 

The  foreman  shuffled  his  feet,  grumbled  something 
about  the  insanity  of  all  newspaper  men,  and  departed. 
As  editor  in  charge,  I  felt  justified  in  a  question. 
"  What  are  you  writing  about  Simpkins  ?  " 

He  threw  the  sheets  together  and  tossed  them  over 
to  me.  "  Just  what  Simpkins  asked  for,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  a  first-class,  stereotyped  obituary,  with  every 
thing  in  it,  from  '  the  lamented  citizen  in  our  com 
munity  '  to  '  widely  mourned  by  a  large  circle  of 

\ 


252    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

friends.'  I  have  described  the  theater,  the  ball-room, 
and  the  festivities  he  fathered,  in  the  best  journalese. 
It  is  a  final  example,  my  son,  of  the  Persistence  of 
the  Uninspired." 

"  But  a  column  !  And  a  picture  of  Napoleon  III !  " 
I  protested. 

The  Oldest  Journalist  turned  on  me  with  a  snarl. 
"  He  earned  it,  did  Simpkins  of  Molokai !  He  had  no 
inspirations,  I  grant  you,  and  he  was  a  bore  such  as 
heaven  spare  us  another.  But  his  life  was  harmonious, 
and  his  end  came  fittingly.  By  the  Lord,  if  he  wanted 
all  through  his  dull  life  a  word  of  friendliness  said 
over  his  grave,  it 's  not  your  business." 

"  It  is  my  business,"  I  remonstrated.  "  I  'm  here  to 
see  that  the  public  get  the  news  and  nothing  but  news. 
I  'm  not  here  to  give  a  column  to  the  death  of  a  crazy 
fool  who  was  the  laughing-stock  of  five  islands.  You  're 
indeed  the  victim  of  his  persistency  in  the  uninspired 
if  you  try  this  scheme." 

The  snarl  melted  into  a  chuckle.  "  You  're  the 
victim,  too,"  said  the  Oldest  Journalist,  putting 
on  his  jacket.  "  Simpkins  left  all  his  money  to 
the  lepers,  and  that 's  news  worth  a  column  any 
day,  with  a  full-sized  picture.  I  have  the  will  in  my 
pocket." 

So  Simpkins  of  Molokai  got  the  reward  of  his  perse 
verance  on  the  first  page  of  the  "  Advertiser,"  graced 
by  a  picture  that  I  am  informed  looked  strangely  like 
him.  And  the  final  paragraph  of  the  Oldest  Journalist's 
article  ran  thus: 


With  the  passing  of  Mr.  Simpkins  there  passed  away  the 
single  citizen  of  the  unfortunate  colony  on  Molokai  who  pur 
sued  the  avocations  of  a  friendly  life  without  any  reference  to 
the  misery  and  despair  about  him.  Mr.  Simpkins  did  not  make 
many  close  friends,,  but  the  streets  of  Kalaupapa  will  be  the 
sadder  for  lack  of  his  untroubled  countenance,  and  the  pale 
festivities  of  the  settlement  will  move  less  joyously  for  want 
of  one  participant  who  never  by  word  or  act  or  glance  gave 
any  reminder  to  his  fellow  citizens  of  their  infirmity  or  their 
separation  from  the  world  of  the  active  and  healthy.  With 
out  making  protestations  of  charity,  single-hearted  in  his 
desire  to  bear  an  honorable  part  in  the  life  of  his  chosen 
home,  he  did  more,  it  is  possible,  than  he  will  be  given 
credit  for. 


254    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

II 

ON    KINDILINI 

WE  HAD  been  gossiping  idly  on  the  lanai  of  the  big 
hotel,  and  our  budget  of  scandal  was  exhausted.  Harper 
leaned  back,  waving  his  hands  impatiently  at  the  mov 
ing  crowd  that  circled  and  hummed  under  the  lights. 
"  There  is  something  devilish  about  all  this,"  he  mut 
tered.  "  Why  do  we  excuse  things  down  here  that  we 
would  strongly  reprobate  at  home?  I  am  very  near 
to  belief  in  what  a  shocked  Briton  said  last  night  about 
there  not  being  any  God  in  these  latitudes." 

"  Manners  are  different,"  I  paltered. 

Harper  breathed  out  a  strong  "  Pah !  Right  is  right ! 
Society  ought  to  punish  —  " 

The  Oldest  Journalist  in  the  South  Seas  raised  his 
eyes.  "  It 's  not  altogether  society's  business,"  he  said. 
"  You  and  I  can  punish  only  after  hearing  all  the  evi 
dence  ;  society  —  sometimes  —  has  to  yield  to  Fate,  or 
God,  if  you  prefer  that  title.  And  I  have  come  to 
think  that  God  knows  best  and  punishes  most  severely. 
And  it  is  more  merciful  to  leave  it  to  Him;  for  when 
He  punishes  He  pardons,  too.  You  and  I  never  par 
don.  We  miss  the  kernel  of  the  law." 

"  Nonsense,"  Harper  put  in  brusquely.  "  You  see 
people  going  free  every  day.  If  society  does  n't  exact 
her  penalties  and  execute  her  laws,  there  is  no  punish 
ment  at  all.  I  judge  —  " 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  that  we  —  you  have  a  right  to 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    255 

judge,"  went  on  the  old  man  thoughtfully.  "  Now, 
I  was  just  thinking  about  Honoria  McLean  and 
Kindilini." 

"  Who  was  she  ?  "  we  demanded. 

"  She  was  the  woman  that  Henry  Plicott  ran  away 
with  twenty-five  years  ago.  It  was  all  before  your 
time.  But  it  shows  that  when  a  man  and  a  woman  have 
evaded  society,  they  are  face  to  face  with  —  with 
destiny,  or  God ;  or  is  it  themselves  ? 

"  It  was,  as  I  Ve  said  "  (the  Oldest  Journalist  went 
on),  "  something  more  or  less  than  twenty-five  years 
ago.  Henry  Plicott  came  from  the  States  to  sell  ma 
chinery  to  the  sugar-planters.  I  recall  him  as  a  spare, 
solemn  fellow,  with  hungry  brown  eyes.  He  had  the 
usual  vices,  I  believe;  he  also  cherished,  at  times  when 
business  did  not  prosper,  a  whimsical,  almost  comic 
taint  of  philosophy.  As  I  understood  it,  it  was  a  child 
ish  belief  that  '  some  good  woman  would  be  the  making 
of  him  some  day.'  That 's  probably  definite  enough. 
You  Ve  heard  wastrels  mouth  it  before.  Plicott  was 
not  offensive  about  it,  though.  He  merely  offered  it 
to  you,  over  an  intimate  cigar,  much  as  a  man  may 
admit  to  a  friend  that  he  hopes  to  make  a  winning  on 
the  next  turn  of  the  market. 

"  Plicott  had  been  on  the  islands  a  year  when  he  met 
Honoria  McLean.  She  was  the  wife  of  Alexander 
McLean,  head  of  a  small  commission  house.  Old  resi 
dents  —  Jcamaainas  like  myself  —  remember  Honoria. 
She  was  a  big,  splendid,  red-haired  woman  thirty  years 
old;  full  of  exuberant  vitality  that  a  humid  climate 


256    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

and  a  broiling  sun  seemed  unable  to  weaken.  McLean 
had  married  her  in  Scotland  two  years  before,  going 
back  to  fetch  her  after  he  had  made  a  little  fortune 
here.  She  was  waiting  for  him.  We  understood  that 
they  had  been  sweethearts  since  he  was  a  young  fellow 
and  she  a  kiddie.  Alexander  was  short,  wore  a  neat, 
dry  beard,  and  took  snuff;  a  stiff  man,  starched  with 
the  rules  of  virtuous  conduct,  and  ever  ready  for  a 
bargain  or  an  argument. 

"  Plicott  and  Honoria  met  at  the  Palace,  as  every 
body  did  then.  If  you  'd  go  up  and  look  in  the  register 
of  the  royal  receptions  and  levees  of  those  days,  you  'd 
find  Honoria's  genteel  script  and  Plicott's  scrawl  among 
the  signatures  of  envoys,  attaches,  and  visiting  admirals. 
But  it  was  a  full  year  after  they  met  that  some  one 
said  one  night,  '  Plicott  is  making  love  to  Honoria.' 

"  Of  course  that  opened  the  eyes  of  us  all.  We  looked 
across  the  lawn,  and  saw  Honoria's  fine  figure  shining 
like  a  white  statue  of  marble  under  the  trees,  and 
Plicott  standing  before  her  with  his  hands  clasped  be 
hind  his  back  and  his  big,  hungry  eyes  fixed  on  her. 
Later  I  Ve  been  swimming  at  Waikiki,  and  heard  a 
steady,  powerful  beat  of  arms  just  behind  me,  and 
swerved  aside  to  let  Plicott  and  Honoria  plunge  by, 
round  white  arm  and  lean  brown  arm  reaching  out 
overhand  with  the  regularity  of  perfect  strength  and 
accord  as  they  drove  in  from  the  reef.  Again,  one  would 
see  Alexander  in  a  brown  study  in  a  parlor,  snuff-box 
in  hand,  gazing  under  bent  brows  at  some  invisible 
object,  while  the  constant  talk  of  his  wife  with  Plicott 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    257 

must  have  poured  into  his  ears.  It  just  missed  being 
a  scandal. 

"  Later  we  observed  that  Honoria  and  Henry  were  n't 
seen  together  as  formerly,  and  when  they  met  they 
seemed  to  look  at  each  other  silently,  Plicott  with  a 
grave  perplexity  in  his  eyes.  At  such  seasons  I  've 
caught  a  glance  of  Honoria's  that  expressed  a  profound 
bewilderment,  a  searching  sorrow  that  was  feeling  round 
in  her  heart  for  something  to  feed  on;  a  very  subtle 
glance  that  avoided  us,  Plicott  most  of  all,  like  an  in 
voluntary  sob  that  must  find  no  one's  ear. 

"  Then  there  came  the  day  when  we  heard  that  the 
barque  Golden  Gate  would  leave  Honolulu  for  Panama, 
whence  one  could  catch  the  steamship  for  New  York 
and  Liverpool.  What  plans  we  made !  I  myself  thought 
of  the  folks  in  Maine,  and  decided  to  go.  Others  grew 
hilarious  at  hope  of  reaching  home  without  all  the 
delays  of  the  trip  to  the  Coast  and  overland  from  San 
Francisco.  Inside  a  week  every  cabin  on  the  Golden 
Gate  was  taken,  and  the  list  was  closed.  We  frolicked 
like  children,  we  who  had  been  down  here  for  years 
without  a  taste  of  hominy,  a  sup  of  maple  syrup,  or  a 
buckwheat  cake.  And  those  who  didn't  go  snarled  at 
us  emigrants,  forming  a  defensive  alliance  against  our 
forces  of  good  cheer  and  hope  and  enthusiasm. 

"  It  was  n't  till  we  were  well  down  Molokai  Channel 
that  we  found  that  among  us  were  Alexander  and  Hono 
ria  McLean  and  Henry  Plicott.  Even  then  it  didn't 
strike  us  as  anything  worth  comment,  for  of  late  the  two 
of  them  had  n't  been  seen  much  together,  and  Honoria 


258    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

had  even  avoided  the  usual  routs  and  balls.  But  inside 
a  week  our  eyes  followed  them,  for  Henry  quietly  took 
Honoria  as  his  constant  companion,  and  Alexander, 
snuff-box  in  hand,  sat  by  the  wheel  and  stared  out  upon 
the  ocean  with  a  sullen,  hurt  look.  Honoria  was 
resplendent. 

"  We  were  really  a  strange  company,  though  I  suppose 
our  being  thrust  together  in  cramped  quarters  had  much 
to  do  with  our  incongruity.  Out  of  thirty  passengers 
there  were,  besides  Honoria,  only  three  women.  Two 
of  these  were  wives  of  men  on  board;  the  third  was  a 
slim,  shy  girl  going  to  some  place  in  Connecticut  to  be 
married.  Her  name  was  Susan  Hays,  and  she  sat  in  the 
shadow  of  the  long-boat  at  night  and  warmed  her  en 
gagement  ring  against  her  breast.  I  suppose  she  thought 
no  one  observed  her. 

"  Indeed,  I  flattered  myself  that  it  was  I  only  who 
had  been  shrewd  enough  to  read  the  story  of  this  girl's 
brooding  affection.  But  one  night,  sitting  on  a  hatch 
and  watching  the  moonlight  on  the  upper  sails,  I  heard 
Honoria's  voice,  from  some  shadow,  saying  unsteadily, 
'  I  threw  my  betrothal  ring  into  a  drawer  when  I  got  it. 
I  could  n't  wear  it,  Harry.' 

"  Plicott  (for  I  recognized  his  voice)  muttered, 
'  One  can  get  rid  of  the  engagement  ring,  but  the  wed 
ding  ring  sticks  fast,  does  n't  it,  Honoria  ? ' 

"  That  was  all  I  heard.  But  I  knew,  then,  that 
Alexander  McLean  had  better  look  to  his  wife  or  lose 
her.  The  Golden  Gate  was  swimming  eastward  slowly 
through  warm,  breezy  seas,  under  dark  skies  where  the 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    259 

stars  hung  in  a  certain  gorgeous  detachment  and  a 
woman's  face  in  the  dusk  was  more  than  all  the  com 
mandments.  A  few  days  later  I  went  forward  at  sun 
down,  and  found  Honoria  and  Henry  sitting  on  the 
big  anchor,  quite  forgetful  of  the  dinner-gong.  When 
I  appeared,  she  looked  up  with  a  defiant  glance,  and 
Henry  dropped  her  hand.  Later  he  came  to  me  and 
said  glowering,  '  You  understand,  I  suppose,  that  it  is 
none  of  your  business  ? '  Well,  of  course  it  was  no 
affair  of  mine.  The  elderly  chap  with  the  snuff-box  had 
the  whole  burden  on  his  shoulders. 

"  Thereafter  I  thought  Henry  dropped  some  of  his 
reserve.  Whenever  Honoria  came  up  on  deck,  with 
her  hair  glowing  in  the  light  and  her  firm,  white  hands 
shading  her  eyes,  —  her  invariable  gesture,  —  Plicott 
would  leave  whatever  group  he  was  in  and  walk  slowly 
and  steadily  to  meet  her.  They  would  sit  down,  silently, 
together.  Now  and  then  one  would  see  her  brush  her 
warm  lips  with  her  fingers  and  glance  abroad  with  a 
frightened,  tremulous  air,  like  a  child  in  trouble.  Henry 
would  glower  out  of  his  hungry  eyes,  and  his  lean,  dark 
face  would  redden.  Now  and  again  Alexander  walked 
by,  his  starched  face  rigid  with  disapproval.  So  far  as 
we  observed,  neither  man  ever  addressed  the  other. 

"  You  understand  that  the  course  taken  by  our  vessel 
was  lonely  beyond  expression.  It  is  extremely  probable 
that  not  one  ship  in  ten  years  cuts  across  chat  desolate 
expanse  of  the  South  Pacific.  It  is  a  sea  of  baffling 
winds,  of  unending  blank  reaches  that  weary  the  eye. 
Day  after  day  the  horizon  recedes  before  you,  present- 


260       ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

ing  a  constant,  definite  line,  broken  once  in  a  while 
by  the  uprising  of  a  distant  wave  or  the  column  of  a 
cloud.  Overhead  the  winds  echo  in  the  profound  vault, 
a  measured,  faint  thunder  that  is  forever  exactly  above 
you,  invariable  and  incessant,  like  the  dim  din  of  vast 
wheels. 

"  The  Golden  Gate  gained  an  atmosphere  of  intense 
and  eternal  solitude,  much  as  if  she  had  become  fixed 
in  space,  and  the  earth  were  rumbling  under  us  like  an 
endless  treadmill,  midway  of  which  we  were  traveling, 
without  an  inch's  advance.  I  suppose  we  all  of  us 
expected  this  to  last  forever.  I  don't  think  one  of  us 
looked  for  the  barque  to  arrive  at  any  port.  Honestly, 
as  I  review  it,  I  am  convinced  that  we  did  n't  dream  of 
ever  missing  the  sight  of  Honoria,  elbows  on  knees,  eyes 
on  the  distance,  feeling  beside  her  Plicott,  whose  dark 
face  was  forever  ruddied  by  the  thought  of  his  love 
for  her.  .  .  .  Susan  Hays  was  eternally  to  slip  across 
before  them,  holding  her  gentle  left  hand  in  the  palm 
of  her  right  in  order  that  no  breath  of  this  fiery 
passion  might  sear  the  tender  love  that  warmed  her 
small  betrothal  ring.  .  .  .  For  ages  Alexander  McLean 
was  to  skulk  in  the  shadow,  tapping  the  lid  of  his  box 
of  deadly  venom.  So  when,  one  night  as  we  sat  about 
the  deck,  the  yards  shivered,  a  shroud  snapped  high 
up,  giving  forth  a  vibrant,  shrill  tang,  and  the  Golden 
Gate  stopped  dead  on  her  course,  we  stared  at  each  other 
like  men  wakened  from  a  dream. 

"  An  hour  later  we  knew  the  extent  of  our  disaster. 
In  that  uncharted  sea  a  reef  had  intercepted  us.  The 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    261 

barque  had  slipped  upon  it  under  the  gentle  impulse 
of  her  sails,  nosed  into  it,  and  swung  round  broadside 
to  the  sharp  coral.  Our  vessel  was  a  total  loss,  lying 
almost  awash  to  the  long,  low  rollers  that  passed  over 
the  sunken  reef  without  breaking. 

"  The  next  day  was  an  anxious  one.  The  captain 
pored  over  the  charts  and  fingered  the  '  Handbook  and 
Sailing  Directions  for  the  South  Pacific/  while  the 
mates  cleared  away  the  boats,  broke  out  provisions,  and 
did  what  they  could  to  prepare  for  the  long  trip  to  land. 
Toward  evening  the  captain  assembled  us  and  said: 
'  The  reef  we  are  wrecked  on  is  not  down  on  the  chart. 
Apparently  the  nearest  land  is  seven  hundred  miles 
away.  I  have  figured  out  our  course,  and  we  shall 
leave  the  ship  to-night  in  five  boats.  If  the  weather 
holds  fair  we  shall  make  land  within  one  week/ 

"  We  were  then  assigned  to  the  different  boats,  and 
the  water  and  food  was  carefully  measured.  During 
this  operation  the  moon  rose.  By  its  light,  boat  after 
boat  was  lowered  and  its  passengers  embarked  in  it.  Pli- 
cott  and  I  were  assigned  to  the  second  mate's  boat,  a 
small  one  manned  by  three  sailors.  With  us  was  a  pas 
senger  named  Howard,  an  old  man  who  insisted  that 
Susan  Hays  go  with  us,  as  he  knew  her  people  and  felt 
a  responsibility  for  her  safety.  When  we  were  all  on 
board,  and  the  girl  had  been  handed  down  to  us,  we 
pulled  off  a  few  fathoms  and  lay  to,  swinging  up  and 
down  on  the  sluggish  surges. 

"  The  moon  had  reached  the  zenith  when  we  were 
all  embarked.  The  last  boat  was  riding  just  below  the 


262    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

rail  of  the  quarter-deck.  In  it  were  half  a  dozen  pas 
sengers  and  Alexander  and  Honoria  McLean.  The  cap 
tain's  instruments  were  in  the  stern-sheets,  a  seaman 
held  the  chronometer  on  his  lap,  and  the  captain  him 
self  was  staring  up  at  the  tangled  rigging  with  an 
abstracted,  mournful  look.  Then,  with  a  determined 
and  manly  gesture  of  resignation,  he  stepped  briskly 
over  the  rail,  dropped  into  his  place,  and  the  boat  drove 
away. 

"  A  cable's  length  from  the  wreck,  the  boats  came 
together  for  orders.  The  captain  gave  his  plans.  '  I  '11 
keep  the  lead  and  show  a  light  at  night,'  he  said.  '  The 
course  is  east  by  north.  God  bless  us  all!  Give  way, 
men! ' 

"  His  boat  swung  up  to  the  one  Plicott  and  I  were 
in,  and  the  captain  leaned  out  to  speak  to  the  second 
mate,  who  commanded  it.  In  that  instant  Honoria 
rose  slightly  in  her  place,  and  I  heard  Plicott  draw  a 
long  breath.  Before  one  of  us  could  raise  a  finger,  he 
had  bent  out,  caught  Honoria's  white  hands,  and  with 
a  vast  effort  heaved  her  into  our  boat. 

"  It  was  so  suddenly  done  that  the  captain  did  not 
catch  the  purport  of  our  exclamations.  When  he  saw 
Honoria  beside  Plicott,  he  seemed  on  the  pqint  of  saying 
something;  instead  he  stared  at  Alexander,  who  stared 
back  at  him  with  eyes  blazing  in  his  contorted  visage. 
But  the  moonlight  was  deceptive,  and  the  captain  listened 
for  him  to  speak.  I  suppose  that  that  moment,  which 
seemed  long  to  us,  was  really  a  second  of  time.  In 
that  instant  Plicott  had  called  out,  loud  and  command- 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    263 

ingly,  '  Give  way,  all !  '  and  our  sailors  instinctively- 
had  driven  our  boat  ahead.  I  think  the  captain  cried 
out  sharply,  though  I  'm  not  sure,  for  the  very  next 
thing  (our  eyes  were  fixed  on  Alexander),  McLean  stood 
up,  snuff-box  in  hand,  as  we  could  plainly  see,  and  with 
his  other  hand  drew  a  small  pistol  from  his  pocket,  which 
he  fired  point-blank. 

"  The  report  had  not  reached  us  before  the  second 
mate  roared  out  an  order  to  pull  harder,  and  our  boat 
rushed  off,  out  of  range  of  the  madman's  weapon.  It 
must  have  been  several  minutes  before  we  felt  safe,  and 
the  second  mate,  whose  name  was  Gridley,  gave  the 
order  to  lie  by.  We  looked  back  and  saw  nothing,  the 
moon,  now  past  the  zenith,  being  in  our  eyes.  We  heard 
a  hail,  quite  faint.  One  of  us  answered  it.  Then  came 
silence,  and  Gridley  ordered  the  sailors  to  fall  to  their 
oars  again.  '  What  did  that  man  mean  ? '  he  demanded 
angrily.  No  one  replied,  and  he  bent  over  his  compass. 
When  he  had  found  the  course  and  fixed  a  star  in  his 
mind,  we  started  slowly  and  painfully  out  to  the  east 
ward. 

"  It  must  have  lacked  but  a  couple  of  hours  of  dawn 
when  we  left  the  barque,  for,  as  we  went  along,  listening 
occasionally  for  the  voices  of  some  in  the  other  boats, 
or  peering  out  to  pick  up  the  light  that  the  captain  had 
promised  to  show,  the  eastern  horizon  suddenly  grew 
white.  Later  there  appeared  around  the  declining  moon 
a  great  circle  of  darkness;  the  stars  faded.  Then  a 
ribbon  of  fire  flamed  on  the  edge  of  the  sea,  and  in  a 
moment  the  sun  burst  up.  When  it  was  high  enough 


264    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

for  us  to  see  under  its  beams,  the  other  boats  were  not 
in  sight.  We  thought  to  discern  the  spars  of  the  Golden 
Gate  far  astern,  but  that  was  all.  Gridley  was  much 
put  out.  '  We  were  set  wrong  by  that  mad  fellow 
shooting  at  us,'  he  exclaimed.  '  And  the  other  boats 
pulled  directly  eastward.  They  are  ahead  of  us.  We  '11 
keep  the  course  and  maybe  overtake  them  in  a  few 
hours.' 

"  An  appalled  voice  came  from  a  man  forward :  {  The 
water-cask  has  leaked,  sir !  '  An  examination  showed 
that  McLean's  bullet  had  clipped  one  of  the  wooden 
hoops  of  the  cask,  cut  it  in  two,  and  allowed  the  staves  to 
open  up  slightly.  Of  the  hundred  gallons  of  fresh  water 
we  had  started  with,  we  might  have  a  dozen  left.  We 
accepted  this  growlingly,  but  the  mate  assured  us  that 
we  must  soon  pick  up  the  other  boats  and  from  their 
casks  we  would  replenish  our  supply.  In  the  meantime 
a  sailor  carefully  stopped  the  cracks  in  the  cask  with 
strips  of  cloth  in  order  to  prevent  further  loss. 

"  During  that  day  and  the  following  night  we  failed 
to  sight  the  other  boats.  The  sea  had  swallowed  them 
up.  Gridley  refused  to  alter  the  course  to  search  for 
them,  alleging  that  it  might  delay  us  in  reaching  the 
land.  '  And  an  hour  may  mean  life  to  some  of  us/ 
he  said  grimly. 

"  The  third  day  our  water  was  exhausted,  except  for 
a  few  ounces  apiece  for  the  ten  of  us.  Our  plight, 
now  that  we  had  lost  track  of  our  companions,  was 
desperate.  Gridley,  observing  a  strong  current  setting  to 
the  southward,  assumed  that  it  was  the  action  of  this 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    265 

that  had  parted  us,  and  he  said  that  we  might  now  do 
well  to  follow  this  current,  doubling  our  speed,  in 
hopes  of  sighting  some  land.  '  These  are  uncharted 
seas/  he  told  me.  l  If  that  reef  was  there  without 
having  been  discovered,  it  is  possible  we  may  find  an 
island.'  He  changed  the  course. 

"  The  horizon  still  presented  a  faultless  rim  when 
our  thirst  had  mounted  high.  In  our  growing  misery 
we  looked  askance  at  Plicott  and  Honoria.  They,  we 
argued,  had  caused  our  disaster.  And  seeing  our  anger, 
Plicott  drew  her  apart  and  held  her  beside  him,  glower 
ing  at  us  in  a  truculent  and  determined  manner.  We 
should  doubtless  have  set  him  to  the  last  test,  had  not 
a  gull  passing  overhead  dropped  from  his  bill  a  seed 
which  floated  on  the  water  and  was  caught  by  Gridley. 
He  examined  it  and  said  cheerfully,  '  It  is  a  fresh  seed. 
Land  is  close  by.' 

"  l  But  where  ? '  we  demanded. 

"  Gridley  smiled  upon  us  gallantly,  recovering  his 
courage  and  ascendancy.  '  We  '11  soon  find  it,'  he  as 
sured  us.  '  Everybody  keep  a  good  lookout.' 

"  That  night  we  found  it  —  a  small,  wavering  shadow 
on  the  southern  horizon.  At  first  we  thought  it  an 
illusion,  a  mere  blot  of  cloud.  But  as  we  studied  it, 
sniffed  the  air,  and  felt  of  the  water,  it  came  over  us 
that  it  was  truly  an  island.  The  mate  carefully  calcu 
lated  the  force  and  direction  of  the  current,  diverted 
our  course  by  a  few  points,  and  we  gradually  drew 
up  to  it,  dawn  breaking  while  we  were  three  miles  away 
and  rapidly  approaching  it  over  a  windless  sea,  It  was. 


266    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

noon  when  we  ran  the  boat  up  on  a  barren  white  shore 
and  stumbled  out,  saying  to  each  other,  '  We  must  find 
water.' 

• "  I  '11  pass  over  certain  episodes  of  little  moment  and 
bring  you  to  the  hour,  late  that  night,  when  we  knew 
that  there  was  no  water  on  the  island.  We  had  searched 
it,  scanned  it  inch  by  inch,  knew  its  configuration  per 
fectly,  and  were  gathered  in  despair  at  the  foot  of  the 
only  eminence  in  its  small  area. 

"  The  extreme  breadth  of  the  islet  was  a  half-mile. 
In  length  it  extended  for  about  two  miles,  running 
almost  directly  north  and  south.  In  the  middle  of  it, 
dividing  it  in  two,  rose  a  long,  steep,  sharp  ridge  of 
rock,  rising  precipitously  from  the  white,  barren  sand 
for  nearly  the  length  of  the  island.  This  rock  was 
very  much  like  a  wall,  or  a  backbone.  On  either  side 
of  this  ridge  the  sand  was  verdureless  except  for  a 
small  clump  of  bushes  huddled  at  the  foot  of  an  abrupt 
cliff  on  the  east  face.  These  formed  a  thicket  possibly 
a  score  of  feet  through,  none  of  the  bushes  being  over  a 
dozen  feet  high.  Above  them  the  rock  rose  vertically 
for  fifty  feet,  glaring  white.  I  assure  you  that  we 
knew  what  we  were  talking  about  when  we  agreed  that 
there  was  no  water.  We  had  even  dug  in  the  coarse, 
white,  sharp  coral  sand.  We  had  tried  to  scale  the 
spine  of  rock,  and  failed.  We  had  almost  pulled  the 
stunted  shrubs  up  in  an  effort  to  find  whence  they 
sucked  their  moisture.  And  now,  lighted  by  the  rising 
moon,  we  gaped  at  each  other,  mumbling  our  despair 
through  swollen  lips.  Apart  from  us  sat  three  people: 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    267 

Susan  Hays,  her  hands  clasped  in  her  lap,  and  Honoria 
and  Plicott,  silently  staring  at  us,  driven  from  us  by 
the  consciousness  that  to  them  we  owed  our  lamentable 
death. 

"  I  don't  know  what  would  have  been  the  outcome 
of  our  despair  if  a  cloud  had  not  suddenly  overspread 
us  and  poured  down  a  flood  of  rain.  For  an  hour  we 
drank  out  of  our  palms  —  out  of  any  vessel  we  could 
find;  we  soaked  our  bodies  in  the  warm  water,  lifting 
our  faces  to  it  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy.  Yet,  when  dawn 
came  we  had  managed  to  collect  only  a  few  gallons,  and 
a  cloudless  sky  and  burning  sun  mocked  us. 

"  We  worked  and  built  us  a  camp,  with  a  fireplace, 
a  cellar  dug  in  the  sand  in  the  rock's  shadow  for  our 
provisions,  and  a  little  store  place  for  the  scanty  fuel 
the  sailors  gathered.  Then  Gridley  divided  us  into 
watches,  and  we  prepared  to  stay  till  we  could  accumu 
late  enough  water  to  fill  the  cask,  which  we  repaired, 
and  so  continue  our  voyage  to  the  mainland.  Our 
circumstances  were  not  pleasant :  we  were  a  thousand 
miles  from  land,  the  climate  forbade  us  to  expect  many 
showers,  and  there  was  no  hope  of  a  passing  vessel. 
Under  these  conditions,  we  settled  down  as  best  we 
might,  relying  on  the  possibility  of  soon  being  ready  to 
take  to  the  boat  again. 

"  The  seamen  instantly  accommodated  themselves,  and 
Gridley  relapsed  into  sullen  taciturnity.  The  old  man, 
Howard,  sat  first  on  the  west  side  of  the  rock  of  a 
morning,  panted  during  the  flaming  noon,  and  then, 
when  the  sun  had  passed  the  meridian,  crept  over  into 


268    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

the  shadow  on  the  westward  side.  With  him,  con 
stantly  silent,  shy,  thoughtful,  went  Susan  Hays. 
Plicott  and  Honoria  had  withdrawn  themselves  to 
the  edge  of  the  thicket,  where  they  sat,  her  hand  in 
his,  while  he  glared  out  into  the  great  sunshine  with 
stormy  eyes.  Honoria  seemed  pensive,  with  a  subdued 
demeanor. 

"  Our  water  again  gave  out,  in  due  course.  We 
sought  the  implacable  heavens  for  a  cloud.  Gridley 
tried  to  make  a  rude  still  to  distil  the  sea  water  into 
a  drinkable  liquid;  he  failed.  Once  more  we  searched 
the  islet  for  a  trace  of  water,  digging  into  the  hot 
sand  with  our  fingers.  Plicott  came  with  us,  furious 
in  the  hunt  for  two  days.  Then  he  desisted,  and  lay 
in  the  shadow  of  the  thicket,  gazing  seaward,  or  staring 
at  Honoria,  now  sunburnt  and  with  blackened  lips  and 
bloodshot  eyes. 

"  The  next  night  thereafter  I  wakened  from  an  un 
easy  sleep,  hearing  a  rustling  sound  in  the  thicket,  out 
side  which  Howard,  Susan  Hays,  Honoria,  Plicott,  and 
myself  had  laid  us  down.  I  was  at  the  foot  of  the  rock, 
and  when  I  opened  my  eyes  I  thought  I  discovered  a 
figure  clambering  painfully  up  the  cliff,  out  of  the 
tops  of  the  bushes.  At  first  I  supposed  I  was  dreaming ; 
but  I  finally  decided  that  some  one  was  trying  desper 
ately  to  find  water.  There  was  nothing  unusual  in 
this,  for  each  of  us  at  some  time  or  another  wandered 
off  in  that  hopeless  quest.  However,  I  had  not  thought 
it  possible  to  scale  the  rock.  I  stole  away  and  into 
the  thicket.  There  I  waited  till  a  slight,  scrambling 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    269 

noise  warned  me  that  a  man  was  coming  down.  I 
drew  aside  and  listened.  Whoever  it  was  dropped  softly 
upon  the  sand  and  sank  down,  breathing  heavily. 
Waiting  for  the  moon  to  rise  and  give  me  light  upon 
him,  I  fell  asleep.  When  I  wakened  again  it  was  to 
hear  the  whisper  of  a  man's  husky  voice.  It  was 
Plicott,  saying,  '  Drink  it  all,  Honoria.  I  Ve  found  it 
for  you.' 

"  Gradually  I  made  out  that  they  were  standing  a 
few  feet  from  me,  the  woman  with  one  hand  supporting 
her  against  the  rock.  She  was  whispering,  1 1  must  n't 
Harry.  Give  it  to  the  others.  It 's  wicked !  Give 
it  to  the  others ! ' 

" (  The  others  shall  have  some  when  you  're  done,' 
he  insisted.  '  You  are  first.' 

"  '  And  there  is  plenty  ? '  she  demanded. 

"  '  Plenty,'  he  told  her. 

"  Presently  she  sighed,  and  drank.  A  moment  later 
Plicott  crawled  past  me,  and  then  Honoria  stepped  out 
of  the  thicket.  When  I  returned  to  the  rest,  I  saw  her 
seated  a  little  distance  off;  Plicott  was  back  in  his  old 
place. 

"  You  see  what  I  had  discovered :  Plicott  had  found 
water.  While  I  was  debating  what  to  do,  the  dawn 
broke.  Scanning  the  blackened,  swollen  faces  about 
me,  I  kept  silent.  Instead  of  speaking  a  word  of  what 
I  knew,  I  followed  Henry  down  to  the  boat,  and  when 
he  turned  on  me  with  a  look  of  inquiry,  I  made  no 
bones  of  my  intentions.  *  You  've  found  water,'  I  said. 
'Where  is  it?' 


270    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  He  snarled  at  me  like  an  animal.  '  You  '11  never 
know/  he  muttered. 

"  '  I  will/  I  said  loudly.  '  I  suppose  you  think  that 
you  and  the  woman  you  have  stolen  can  have  it  all. 
But  it  is  on  account  of  you  and  your  guilt  that  we 
decent  people  are  dying.  Do  you  suppose  we  will  en 
dure  it  ? ' 

"  I  can't  describe  the  look  that  altered  his  face.  He 
stood  there,  staring  at  me  with  a  hurt,  puzzled  expression, 
a  man  suddenly  confronted  with  an  inexplicable  prob 
lem.  '  But  you  don't  love  her ! '  he  managed  to  say. 

"  '  Of  course  I  don't/  I  retorted.  '  Why  should  I  ? 
But  I  'm  going  to  have  some  of  that  water.' 

"  You  can  give  what  explanation  you  like  of  his  next 
move.  He  took  me  by  the  arm  and  strode  back  to  the 
thicket,  pulling  me  into  its  shade  after  him.  On  the 
ground  lay  Honoria,  asleep.  He  motioned  to  me  to  pass 
her,  and  as  I  crept  up  beside  him  he  laid  his  finger  on 
a  small  grove  in  the  face  of  the  rock. 

"'Look!'  he  said. 

"  The  depression,  a  very  shallow  one,  extended  ver 
tically  up.  It  was  still  damp.  It  was  the  channel 
of  a  stream. 

"  '  I  found  it/  he  told  me  savagely.  '  It 's  mine. 
Somewhere  up  the  face  of  the  cliff  there  is  the  outlet 
of  a  spring.  When  the  sun  shines  and  heats  the  rock, 
all  the  water  that  issues  evaporates  before  it  comes 
down  within  reach.  But  at  night,  after  the  face  of 
the  rock  has  cooled,  it  commences  to  trickle  down  into 
a  little  basin  twenty  feet  up  there.  When  that  basin 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    271 

is  filled  a  few  drops  trickle  down  to  the  ground,  but 
then  the  sun  rises  and  heats  the  rock  and  instantly 
evaporates  it,  so  that  a  few  minutes  after  sunrise  there 
is  only  this  slight  dampness  to  mark  its  course.  It  'a 
mine ! ' 

" '  But  if  one  should  climb  up  to  the  spring  —  to 
that  basin,'  I  said  eagerly,  l  then  we  could  get  water 
all  day  long,  for  all  of  us/ 

"  He  laughed  feverishly.  '  I  've  measured  it.  Work 
ing  for  hours  last  night,  I  got  —  how  much  ?  A  cupful ! 
All  told,  less  than  a  pint !  Enough  for  only  one ! ' 

"  l  And  that 's  you ! '  I  stormed. 

"  '  No,'  he  replied  dully.    '  Honoria.' 

"  I  went  away,  quite  undecided.  I  was  of  a  mind 
to  tell  the  rest.  But  what  good  would  that  do?  The 
scanty  pint  a  day  —  a  cupful  —  would  not  moisten  the 
lips  of  all  of  us.  And,  besides,  I  had  a  profound  fear 
of  Plicott.  He  was  capable  of  murder;  he  would  kill 
us  all,  if  it  came  to  the  question.  I  did  not  doubt  his 
ability.  While  we  had  silently  made  these  two,  the 
guilty  man  and  the  guilty  woman,  apart  from  us,  sep 
arated  by  an  invisible  strong  line,,  they  dominated  us. 
Keeping  to  themselves,  forced  aloof  by  some  unspoken 
reprobation  of  ours,  they,  however,  seemed  to  have  the 
balance  of  power  with  them.  Yet  I  cannot  tell  what 
I  would  have  done  had  not  an  opportune  shower  drenched 
us  and  given  us  half  a  cask  of  water  again.  This  re 
prieve  strengthened  us.  But  at  the  end  of  twenty-four 
hours  we  wakened  to  find  that  the  three  sailors  had 
stolen  the  cask  and  our  boat  and  vanished,  leaving 


Howard  and  the  mate,  Plicott,  Honoria,  Susan,  and 
myself  with  but  very  little  victual  and  no  water. 

"  Day  after  day  passed.  Our  little  rations  of  food 
would  not  go  down  our  throats  for  dryness.  We  lay 
in  the  shadow  of  the  rock,  after  soaking  our  bodies  in 
the  surf,  and  muttered  insane  blasphemy  at  the  pitiless 
and  shining  sky.  When  I  say  '  we  '  and  '  our  '  I  refer 
to  those  of  us  who  had  thrust  Plicott  and  Honoria  into  a 
separate  society.  I  did  not  disclose  their  secret  —  yet. 
We  were  all  weakened  and  nerveless;  Plicott  and  the 
woman  were  strong,  unwithered  by  the  heat  and  the 
drought.  But  I  saw  to  it  that  they  got  nothing  of  our 
scanty  food.  I  recall  smiling  across  at  Plicott  and 
daring  him  to  demand  his  rations.  And  he  smiled  back, 
magnificently. 

"  Gridley  grew  violent  within  two  days  after  the 
desertion  of  the  seamen,  went  off  by  himself,  and  main 
tained  a  steady  and  vigilant  watch  over  us,  like  a  vul 
ture.  Howard,  old  and  dried  up  anyway,  did  not 
seem  to  need  water  as  much  as  the  rest  of  us.  He 
sat  against  the  rock,  as  he  had  always  done,  changing 
from  shadow  to  shadow  as  the  sun  swept  overhead ;  and 
Susan  Hays  leaned  on  his  knee  and  dreamed,  her  hands 
clasped  over  her  bosom.  Apart,  Honoria  sat  like  a 
splendid  goddess  at  the  entrance  of  her  sacred  thicket; 
sunk  in  dark  meditation,  Plicott  sat  beyond  her,  sullen 
and  silent,  now  staring  at  the  woman,  now  gazing  upon 
the  ground. 

"  I  think  about  two  days  more  had  passed  when  I 
was  wakened  in  deep  night  to  hear  a  harsh  voice  saying, 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    273 

'  Get  back !  Get  back ! '  I  got  up  and  ran  round  the 
edge  of  the  rock  toward  the  thicket,  and  saw  Gridley 
on  one  knee,  fighting  off  Plicott. 

"  As  I  came  up  the  second  mate  called  out  through 
the  dark,  '  They  've  got  water !  Kill  them  both ! '  He 
rolled  over  under  a  blow,  his  voice  dying  in  his  throat. 

"  The  tumult  brought  Howard,  and  he  and  I  stormed 
at  Plicott,  who  confronted  us  under  the  bright  stars, 
pistol  in  hand.  I  admit  it  was  not  a  pretty  scene.  But 
Plicott's  pistol  subdued  us,  and  we  went  muttering 
away.  As  we  stumbled  back,  looking  over  our  shoulders 
and  cursing,  the  old  man  pitched  forward.  Gridley, 
stooping  over  him,  stared  into  his  set  face  and  rose, 
croaking,  '  He  's  dead.'  So  he  was. 

"  This  brought  matters  to  a  pass.  The  girl,  Susan 
Hays,  came  and  sat  through  the  morning  by  the  side  of 
her  only  protector  and  friend,  dry-eyed,  serene,  her 
cracked  lips  parted  in  a  gentle  smile.  Far  off,  Gridley 
huddled  in  the  wet  sand  at  the  water's  edge,  while 
Plicott  stood  on  the  other  side,  pistol  in  hand.  After 
hours  of  hesitation,  I  got  up  and  drew  my  knife,  intend 
ing  to  go  and  kill  Plicott. 

"  But  at  this  moment  Honoria  came,  walking  easily 
and  slowly,  calling  out,  '  Susan !  Susan ! ' 

"  Plicott  made  a  sudden  attempt  to  stop  her.  But 
she  merely  smiled  at  him  and  came  on,  splendid  and 
beautiful,  white  arms  swinging  at  her  sides,  her  cheeks 
fresh  and  dewy.  She  saw  the  girl  crouched  over  the 
old  man's  body,  and  halted.  Then  she  ran  up  to  her, 
crying,  '  Susan !  Susan !  What 's  the  matter  ? ' 


274    ACROSS  THE    LATITUDES 

"  The  girl  lifted  her  quiet,  dull  eyes  and  said  simply, 
'  He  's  dead.' 

"  Honoria  swept  down  beside  her,  drawing  her  into 
her  arms.  '  How  did  he  die  ? '  she  cried.  (  What 's  the 
matter  ? ' 

"  I  broke  in :  '  Can  you  ask  ?  How  dare  you  ask ! 
Can't  you  see  we  are  all  dying  for  lack  of  the  water 
you  are  using  ? ' 

"  She  stared  at  us ;  then,  suddenly  stooping  over, 
she  brushed  her  white  finger-tips  across  the  old  man's 
parted  lips.  His  open  eyes  and  protruding  tongue  would 
have  told  any  one  the  story.  And  Honoria  got  up 
slowly,  drearily,  and  walked  away.  Plicott  met  her 
and  tried  to  say  something.  She  shook  her  head.  '  Why 
did  you  deceive  me  ?  I  did  n't  know,'  I  heard  her 
say.  '  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  that  they  had  no 
water  ? '  She  stared  at  him  a  long  moment,  and  then 
said,  '  We  are  guilty,  Harry.  We  can  never  get  away 
from  it.' 

"  She  went  into  the  covert  of  the  thicket  and  came 
out  with  a  cup  in  her  hand.  This  she  carried  to  Susan 
and  held  to  her  lips,  with  little  murmurs  of  comfort. 
The  girl,  suddenly  waking,  so  to  speak,  gulped  the 
water  down,  looking  wildly  over  the  scene,  and  fell  to 
sobbing  bitterly.  Honoria  put  her  arms  about  her. 

" '  I  '11  never  see  Tom/  I  heard  Susan  whisper. 
'  He  's  waiting  for  me  in  Connecticut/ 

"  '  Yes,  you  '11  see  him  yet,'  Honoria  returned,  while 
Plicott  and  I  stood  by  dumbly. 

"  l  No,  and  I  Ve  waited  for  him  all  my  life  —  till 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    275 

he  made  money  enough.  And  now  I  won't  see  him 
ever !  Oh,  Mrs.  McLean,  you  've  been  married  and 
had  your  life  and  the  man  you  love !  You  've  had  your 
husband !  And  I  '11  never  have  Tom ! ' 

"  Imagine  that  slender,  plangent  voice  talking  to  the 
brassy  sky,  through  pale  lips,  over  a  dead  body.  It 
shook  me.  I  seemed  to  see  before  me  all  the  misery  of 
the  world  suddenly  drawn  down  into  the  heart  of  a 
young  girl.  To  Honoria  it  carried  a  different  message ; 
she  rose,  with  infinite  gentleness,  and  caught  Plicott's 
eye. 

"  '  I  understand  why  you  did  this,  Harry,'  she  said 
to  him,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hands.  '  You  did  n't 
tell  me  the  rest  were  dying  for  a  drink  of  water.  But 
you  and  I  have  come  to  the  end  of  things,  Harry.  I 
ought  never  to  have  loved  you.  I  'm  a  wicked  woman. 
But  now  that  it  is  all  done,  and  you  and  I  have  nothing 
else,  we  '11  keep  our  love.  We  '11  deserve  it,  Harry. 
We  '11  earn  the  right  to  carry  it  to  God  and  tell  him 
it  was  n't  all  false,  it  was  n't  all  unworthy  and  mean  and 
dishonorable.  .  .  .  Bring  her  in  and  put  her  in  the 
shade/ 

"  Plicott  stooped  over  dizzily,  took  Susan  in  his  arms, 
and  carried  her  into  the  thicket.  Honoria  went  in  then, 
and  we  stood  outside,  panting  and  thirsty  and  desper 
ate.  When  Honoria  came  out  she  walked  to  Plicott 
and  put  her  fingers  in  his.  '  Now  we  '11  die  together/ 
she  said  calmly,  and  sat  down. 

"  That  night  we  buried  the  old  man,  and  Gridley 
drew  me  aside  to  say,  '  I  know  that  Plicott  and  that 


276    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

woman  stole  our  cask  of  water.  Look  at  their  wet 
lips !  Let 's  kill  them ! '  He  made  this  proposal  with 
earnestness;  and  when  he  had  made  it  he  lay  down, 
struggled  a  little  with  phantoms,  and  later  died  in  a 
burning  pain. 

"  Without  any  help  I  dragged  his  body  into  the 
shadow  of  the  rock,  and  went  and  told  Honoria  and 
Henry.  She  looked  at  me  quietly.  '  I  'm  guilty  of  his 
death,  too,'  she  said.  '  But  I  did  n't  know.  You 
would  n't  stay  with  us ;  you  looked  at  us  as  if  we  were 
too  wicked,  and  we  stayed  by  ourselves.  I  did  n't  know 
you  were  not  having  water  to  drink.  Harry  showed 
me  how  to  get  the  water  at  night,  and  there  was  only 
enough  for  the  two  of  us.  Why  should  n't  we  have  it  ?  ' 

"  l  But  Plicott  owed  it  to  the  rest  of  us,'  I  said  bru 
tally.  ( He  had  no  business  to  snatch  you  into  our 
boat  and  get  your  husband  to  shoot  at  us  and  spoil  our 
cask  of  water.' 

"  '  That  is  so/  she  replied.  '  But  I  am  glad  Harry 
loved  me  that  much.  Now  we  '11  let  Susan  have  the 
water,  so  that  she  can  meet  that  fellow  in  Connecticut.' 
She  crept  into  Plicott's  arms,  and  we  sat  together 
through  the  night.  At  dawn,  gently  disengaging  him 
self,  Plicott  drew  me  aside  to  say  through  cracked  lips, 
'  I  did  n't  drink  any  of  the  water.  She  thought  there 
was  plenty.' 

"  '  But  what  became  of  it  ? '  I  demanded. 

"  l  There  was  only  a  cupful/  he  answered,  walking 
on  beyond  the  thicket. 

"  But   something  caught  my   eye.      Pinned   against 


THE    OLDEST    JOURNALIST    277 

the  hot  face  of  the  rock,  I  saw  a  pair  of  long  stockings 
spread  out  to  dry. 

"  To  my  exclamation  he  croaked :  l  She  washed  them. 
She  thought  there  was  plenty  of  water.  You  could  n't 
expect  her  not  to  ...  a  delicate  woman.  .  .  .  The  sea 
water,  she  said,  made  them  sticky  .  .  .  she  wanted  to 
be  beautiful  for  my  sake.  .  .  .  She  said  she  would 
have  made  me  a  tidy  wife  .  .  .  men  like  tidiness  .  .  . 
she  washed  them.  I  lied  to  her  .  .  .  she  went  thirsty 
herself,  so  's  she  could  have  her  stockings  clean  .  .  . 
she  .  .  .  Honoria ! '  He  suddenly  fell  forward, 
clutched  his  fingers  into  the  sand,  and  sighed,  blowing 
the  coral  dust  out  of  his  parched  nostrils  in  a  final 
puff.  And,  as  he  relaxed,  a  gentle  draught  of  air 
picked  one  of  the  lace  stockings  from  the  rock  and  let 
it  fall  across  his  lifeless  hand. 

"  It  was  a  week  later,  or  two  or  three  weeks  later 
(time  passed  by  us  with  tremendous  irregularity),  that 
I  dreamed  that  it  rained.  I  started  to  my  feet,  and  in 
my  wild  eagerness  stumbled  over  something  and  fell, 
being  at  the  end  of  my  powers.  There  I  lay,  sucking 
at  the  very  air  for  moisture  till  I  slept  again.  I  was 
roused  at  daylight  to  see  Susan  standing  over  me,  sob 
bing.  l  She  's  dead !  she  's  dead ! '  she  cried  again  and 
again. 

"  I  remember  that  I  looked  up  into  the  blue  sky 
and  felt  my  dry  clothes  about  me.  When  I  cleared  my 
eyes,  I  saw,  a  few  yards  off,  Honoria,  lying  on  her 
back,  her  glowing  hair  shrouding  her  white  face,  her 
parched  lips  and  shrunken  throat.  Beyond  her  I  saw 


278    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

the  white  surf.     Yet  beyond  that  gleamed  the  sail  of 
a  vessel. 

"  I  forgot  everything,  and  ran  down  to  the  shore 
and  shouted  in  a  thin  voice,  while  Susan  stood  before 
me,  her  hands  clasped  over  her  bosom  in  an  agony  of 
suspense.  It  was  n't  till  I  was  sure  the  schooner  was 
heading  up  for  the  island  that  I  turned  round,  and 
realized  that  Honoria  was  quite  dead  in  the  barren  sand 
that  covered  the  lean,  burnt  body  of  the  man  who  had 
loved  her  lawlessly." 


STRANGE  PORTS 

WE  sat  on  the  wheel-box  of  the  Mary  E.  Timms,  smok 
ing  our  pipes  in  the  glitter  of  California  sunshine. 
The  schooner  lay  before  us  empty  and  deserted.  Up 
the  gaping  main  hatch  came  soft  sounds  of  water 
gurgling  along  the  planks  of  the  hull.  My  companion 
took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  cuddled  it  in  his  huge 
fist  and  shook  his  head  at  a  straw-haired  man  who 
peered  down  at  us  from  the  wharf.  "  Don't  know 
where  she  's  bound  for !  "  he  rumbled.  The  man 
nodded  and  retired,  sinking  behind  the  edge  of  the 
wharf  till  only  a  round  hat  bobbed  within  view.  When 
this,  after  several  erratic  movements  along  our  wooden 
horizon,  disappeared  too,  the  mate  resumed  his  pipe. 
"  Sailors  always  want  to  know  where  you  're  going,"" 
he  remarked. 

"  That 's  natural,"  I  suggested. 

"  It  is,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  I  remember  when 
young  fellows  were  n't  so  curious  about  where  the 
vessel  was  cleared  for.  But  sailing  was  sport  those 
days.  Now  it 's  business.  There  are  n't  many  strange 
ports  left,  so  to  speak." 

The  phrase  caught  my  ear.  "  Strange  ports  ?  You 
talk  like  a  sailor  out  of  one  of  Magellan's  ships.  Who 
ever  thinks  of  setting  sail  for  strange  ports  nowadays  ?  " 


280    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  Oh,  well,"  the  mate  answered  with  some  signs  of 

embarrassment,    "  that 's   just   a  manner   of   speaking. 

Only  I  was  thinking  of  Silas  Everett  and  the  voyage 

of  the  El  Dorado." 

11  Did  you  go  to  strange  ports  ?  "  I  demanded 

The  mate  sought  the  mizzen  truck  with  dreamy  eyes. 

"  We  sailed  for  'em,"  he  answered  me  slowly.     "  You 

see  —  " 

Captain  Silas  Everett  quit  the  Pacific  Mail  line, 
and  a  first-class  ship,  one  day  about  ten  years  ago. 
Nobody  could  exactly  make  out  why  he  left  the  San 
Juan,  for  Everett  was  a  steady,  skillful,  quiet  skipper, 
not  more  than  middle-aged,  and  he  would  sooner  or  later 
•have  been  given  one  of  the  crack  express  steamers. 
But  one  day  —  I  was  third  mate  with  him  —  he  went 
to  the  superintendent  and  resigned.  Then  he  came 
back  to  the  San  Juan,  emptied  his  lockers,  told  the 
steward  to  hang  a  fresh  towel  over  the  mirror  and  came 
up  on  the  bridge  where  I  was  fixing  the  compass. 
"  Just  hand  me  out  those  glasses  of  mine,  Grindley," 
he  said.  "  I  >ve  left  the  ship." 

I  got  him  his  binoculars  and  that  was  all  there  was 
to  it.  Naturally,  I  was  surprised;  but  Thompson  took 
the  steamer  and  I  did  n't  think  much  more  about  it  till 
next  trip  into  San  Francisco,  when  Everett  hunted  me 
up.  "  Would  you  like  to  go  mate  with  me  in  the  El 
Dorado  ?  "  says  he. 

"  El  Dorado?  "  says  I.     "  I  don't  know  her." 

"  She  's  a  brig,"  he  told  me. 


STRANGE    PORTS  281 

"  Where  bound  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

Everett  just  looked  at  me  with  his  steady  eyes  and 
said,  "  Are  you  game  for  a  voyage  anywhere  ?  "  Funny, 
was  n't  it  ?  But  I  climbed  right  down,  so  to  speak, 
and  said,  "  Anything  for  a  change.  I  'm  sick  of  the 
smell  of  steam  and  the  same  old  road  year  in  and 
year  out." 

"  I  thought  so,"  he  said.  "  I  stuck  to  that  route 
for  twenty-three  years.  Come  over  to  Meiggs'  Wharf 
and  have  a  look  at  the  El  Dorado." 

So  I  went  and  drew  my  pay  and  turned  in  the 
buttons  and  badges  on  my  uniform  and  we  walked 
down  to  Meiggs'  Wharf  and  I  had  a  look  at  my  new 
ship. 

She  was  n't  very  big,  and  was  old-fashioned  as  a 
whaler.  She  was  about  five  hundred  tons  burden, 
heavily  built,  with  good  lines,  and  a  half  deck.  She 
was  oversparred,  and  the  canvas  was  all  new,  I  could 
see.  Brasswork  shining,  decks  like  cream  and  new 
dowells  looking  up  like  bright  dollars  out  of  the  low 
quarter-deck.  "  There  does  n't  seem  to  be  much  for 
a  mate  to  do,"  I  remarked,  and  Everett  nodded.  "  I  've 
tended  her  myself,"  he  told  me.  "  She 's  all  ready 
for  sea.  I  've  got  half  a  crew,  and  I  reckon  we  can 
pick  up  the  rest  in  a  day  or  so." 

That  night  I  threw  my  blankets  into  my  bunk  on 
the  El  Dorado,  cut  up  some  tobacco  into  the  soap  dish! 
and  felt  at  home  for  the  first  time  in  six  years.  It 's 
pretty  fine  to  step  out  on  deck  of  a  nice  evening  and 
smell  no  steam  and  see  no  passengers  and  not  feel  that 


282    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

from  six  to  sixteen  ventilators  are  swung  the  wrong 
way.  I  turned  in  and  slept  like  a  full  bottle  —  with 
out  a  gurgle.  Next  morning  I  turned  what  hands  were 
aboard  out  at  dawn  and  scrubbed  the  decks.  Then  I 
drank  my  coffee  and  wondered  where  Everett  was.  I 
had  n't  heard  him  come  aboard  the  night  before.  He 
hove  in  sight  just  as  I  set  my  coffee  cup  down,  and 
he  had  two  more  hands  in  tow.  He  shoved  them  up 
the  plank,  gave  them  a  twist  toward  the  foVsle  and 
came  up  to  me,  rubbing  his  fingers  together.  "  Three 
more  men  will  fill  us  up,"  he  remarked. 

Now  I  had  taken  a  good,  fair  look  at  the  hands  al 
ready  signed  on,  and  I  had  a  glance  at  the  two  he  had 
just  brought.  I  spoke  my  mind.  "  Of  all  the  rough, 
rum,  piratical,  filibustering,  throat-cutting,  knife-eat 
ing,  nail-chewing,  impolite  sons  of  Neptune  that  I  ever 
laid  eyes  on  you  've  got  the  pick,  cream  and  eelight," 
I  said.  "  The  very  largest  sized  cuss-word  would  n't 
half  go  round  with  'em." 

Everett  smiled,  apparently  much  pleased  with  him 
self.  "  Can  you  handle  them  ? "  he  inquired  very 
civilly. 

"  I  've  been  third  officer  and  kindergartner  on  a  mail 
boat  for  six  years,"  I  said.  "  My  hands  are  soft.  But 
I  once  sailed  with  a  Nova  Scotia  crew  out  of  Pictou 
and  I  had  callouses  on  my  shoes.  I  understand  I  am 
mate  of  this  brig." 

No  more  was  said  or  was  needful  to  say,  though  the 
last  three  seamen  that  Everett  signed  on  struck  me  as 
being  fellows  that  no  skipper  in  his  wits  would  have 


STRANGE    PORTS  283 

more  than  one  of  in  a  crew  —  tall,  hairy,  scowling, 
sullen  chaps,  the  biggest  of  whom  Everett  made 
bos'n  on  the  spot.  I  merely  pondered  to  myself 
the  probability  that  the  El  Dorado  was  going  as 
a  pirate  or  on  a  sealing  voyage  in  the  Jap  islands. 
But  it  was  none  of  my  business  and  I  kept  my  mouth 
shut. 

We  sailed  the  next  day  without  any  fuss,  and 
twenty-one  days  later  I  came  up  during  my  watch 
below  and  tackled  Everett  to  know  where  we  were 
bound  for.  "  We  've  toddled  out  into  the  Pacific  a 
thousand  miles  and  dropped  down  toward  the  Equator 
another  thousand,  and  now,  as  I  understand  it,  we 
are  rocking  along  into  the  places  where  the  maps  are 
plain  blue  without  any  specks  on  them.  I  've  spent 
my  days  licking  the  crew  and  my  nights  trying  to  get 
up  strength  enough  to  lick  them  again  the  next  day. 
You  have  twelve  hands  on  this  brig,  and  each  of  the 
twelve  would  occupy  the  entire  time  and  attention  of 
three  policemen.  Look  at  your  second  mate  over  there; 
he  has  n't  knuckles  left  to  wipe  his  eyes  with.  How 
many  days  more  ?  " 

Everett  took  all  this  in  and  then  invited  me  into 
the  cabin,  where  he  called  the  boy  and  ordered  him  to 
bring  glasses.  He  reached  out  a  large  bottle  himself 
and  presently  we  were  discussing  it  without  too  much 
ceremony,  while  the  shadow  of  the  spanker  swept  back 
and  forth  across  the  open  skylight.  "  I  might  as  well 
explain  some  things  to  you,"  the  skipper  told  me,  brush 
ing  his  hair  down  on  both  sides  of  his  head.  "  But 


284    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

possibly  even  then  you  won't  understand.  You  will 
see  that.  I  am  trying  to  make  up  for  my  lack  of  ad 
vantages  in  my  youth."  Everett  stared  at  me  anxiously. 

"  I  'm  listening,  sir,"  I  said  encouragingly. 

"  I  suppose  you  ran  away  to  sea  ? "  he  inquired. 

"  I  did,"  I  said.     "  I  perspire  when  I  think  of  it." 

He  nodded  his  head  vigorously.  "  Now  there  you 
have  it  —  real  adventure,  Mr.  Grindley.  As  a  boy  you 
ran  away  to  sea."  He  smacked  his  lips.  "  Now  I  had 
no  such  luck.  My  father  apprenticed  me  when  I  was 
fourteen  years  old,  and  I  spent  five  years  in  the  same 
ship  trading  across  the  Atlantic.  Then  I  was  offered, 
through  my  father's  interest,  a  berth  in  the  Pacific 
Mail,  and  I  stayed  on  the  Panama  run  for  twenty-three 
years,  one  month  and  eight  days.  When  I  quit  the 
San  Juan  I  had  had  no  more  experience  on  the  sea 
than  one  of  the  steward's  boys,  —  not  so  much.  I  re 
solved  that  when  I  had  the  money  I  would  do  what  I 
longed  to  do  when  I  was  a  lad  and  — "  Here  he 
looked  at  me  in  a  scared  way  and  brushed  his  hair 
down  again. 

"  And  what,  sir  ?  "  I  helped  him  along. 

"  And  run  away  to  sea,"  he  finished  hastily. 

Well,  I  stared  at  him  for  an  hour  or  so  and  he  stared 
back,  a  prim,  clean-faced,  neat  whiskered  captain  with 
a  gold  watch  chain  strung  across  his  stomach.  Odd, 
was  n't  it  ?  So  I  stared,  and  all  the  foolish  thoughts 
that  I  ever  thought  came  up  over  the  horizon  of  my 
mind  and  settled  in  the  sky  like  peculiar,  impudent 
stars.  Were  you  ever  eleven  hundred  and  sixty-five 


STRANGE    PORTS  285 

miles  from  land  with  a  lunatic?  And  yet  Captain 
Silas  Everett  was  n't  a  lunatic.  You  could  see  that 
he  had  been  thinking  of  this  thing  for  years  and  years, 
while  he  was  taking  his  sights  from  the  San  Juan  and 
telling  the  chief  officer  to  be  sure  and  not  load  coffee 
and  sheep-dip  in  the  same  hold.  He  was  sane,  all 
right.  But  it  occurred  to  me  that  one  of  us  was  crazy 
and  it  was  evident  that  I  was  it.  So  after  a  long 
while  I  managed  to  say,  "  And  you  're  running  away 
to  sea  now  ?  " 

"Exactly,  Mr.  Grindley." 

"But  where  are  you  going?  "*I  demanded. 

He  came  back  at  me  with  another  question.  "  Did 
you  know  where  you  were  bound  for  when  you  ran 
away  to  sea  ?  " 

"  I  did  not,  and  I  was  an  —  " 

"  Of  course  you  did  n't,"  he  announced,  cheering 
up.  "  Neither  do  I.  Lord,  Grindley,  have  n't  I  earned 
this  ?  I  slaved  on  a  steamer  for  twenty-three  years. 
Now  I  'm  going  to  have  what  all  you  chaps  had  and 
I  never  did.  I  'm  going  to  have  a  little  adventure. 
Just  fancy  "  —  he  combed  his  hair  up  this  time  — 
"  just  fancy :  here  we  are  with  a  tight  little  brig,  free 
as  air  and  with  the  whole  world  before  us.  Why,  man, 
it 's  the  real  thing." 

A  thought  struck  me  and  I  kept  quiet  and  let  him 
talk,  which  he  did  very  sensibly  except  for  his  notion 
about  running  away  to  sea,  which  was  all  rot  and  I 
wished  I  had  never  done  it.  But  that  night  when  I 
saw  the  chance  I  sneaked  out  the  ship's  papers  and 


286    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

looked  up  her  clearance.  I  '11  bet  no  other  vessel  ever 
cleared  from  San  Francisco  like  the  El  Dorado  did. 
But  there  it  was  all  written  out  —  "  for  Strange  Ports." 
Then  I  went  topside  and  stared  at  the  chart  a  while. 
The  El  Dorado  was  blowing  down  into  the  blank  South 
Pacific. 

There  was  one  thing,  however,  that  I  was  entitled 
to  know  and  I  went  right  to  the  skipper  about  it. 
"  It 's  all  right  about  where  we  're  bound  for,"  I  told 
him.  "  If  you  're  yachting  it  suits  me.  Kindly  en 
lighten  me  as  to  the  reason  you  had  for  raking  the 
cinders  of  hell  for  yoifr  crew." 

He  gave  me  no  satisfaction,  though  I  found  out 
afterward,  and  I  '11  tell  you  about  that  when  I  get  to 
it.  In  the  meantime  please  consider  me  conducting  a 
free  fight  through  several  thousand  miles  of  latitude 
and  longitude,  up  one  side  of  the  world  and  down  the 
other,  cross  all  the  tropics,  through  every  oceanic  cur 
rent  and  thwartships  of  the  mundane  sphere  for  eight 
months.  Have  you  looked  in  your  geography  lately? 
Well,  the  surface  of  the  earth  is  said  to  be  two-thirds 
water.  That  is  a  lie.  It  is  nine-tenths  water.  We 
didn't  sight  even  an  island  from  the  time  we  left  the 
Golden  Gate  till  nine  months  later,  when  Everett  looked 
up  at  me  from  the  chart  and  said  quietly,  "  I  wish 
you  'd  correct  this  course  here.  I  make  it  sixteen  hun 
dred  and  eight  miles." 

I  jumped.    "  To  where  ? "  I  asked. 

"  To  Hue/'  he  said. 

"  Hue  ?     That 's   a  new  one  to  me,"   I  remarked, 


STRANGE    PORTS  287 

planting  my  fists  on  the  chart.  "  But  land  is  land  and 
a  port  is  a  port  the  world  over." 

When  my  eye  lit  on  Hue  I  felt  funny.  Look  for 
it  on  any  chart  of  Indian  waters.  It  is  in  Cochin 
China,  not  so  far  from  Saigon.  The  El  Dorado  was 
swinging  along  in  the  southern  equatorial  current,  and 
ahead  of  her  lay  a  mess  of  islands.  Well,  time  enough 
to  tell  about  it  when  we  get  there. 

Did  you  ever  sail  in  those  waters  ?  Don't.  Just  a 
week  later  than  the  day  that  Everett  handed  me  his  fig 
ures,  our  little  brig  was  plunging  bows  under  in  broken 
water.  I  swear  that  all  the  water  in  the  world  piles 
up  on  the  shoals  and  into  the  channels  off  that  coast. 
It  swirls  up  from  the  bottom,  rides  down  in  smoking 
rollers,  whirls  in  vast  pools  that  suck  and  suck  and 
suck  at  the  fringes  of  smelly  islands.  Lord,  what  a 
seaman  Everett  was !  Day  after  day  we  rocked  along 
among  these  currents  and  tides.  Now  and  then  I  could 
see  the  exact  place  where  the  great  stream  of  water 
forked  and  divided.  Moon  and  stars  and  sun  together 
pulled  and  hauled  and  drew  and  drove  that  hot,  scented 
sea  amid  the  flocking  islands.  One  hour  we  were 
racing  on  the  crest  of  a  tidal  wave ;  the  following  hour 
we  were  close  hauled  and  beating  up  into  the  thrust 
of  a  torrent  of  water  pouring  round  some  headland. 
Not  a  watch  passed  but  what  the  men  threw  themselves 
down  where  they  stood  and  panted  and  slept  till  eight 
bells  struck  again.  Everett  and  I  did  n't  sleep  at  all, 
conning  that  little,  stanch  brig  through  the  welter  of 
rocks  and  water  and  shoals  and  whirlpools  and  long 


288    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

reaches,  where  the  waves  ran  ruddy  tipped  into  the 
flaming  sun. 

Once  in  a  while  we  would  sight  a  steamer  coasting 
carefully  into  some  hidden  bay,  or  a  native  craft  boil 
ing  along  in  a  tide-rip.  But  we  won  through,  and  the 
monsoon  silenced  the  sails  and  we  drove  across  the 
China  Sea  toward  Hue. 

Everett  was  jubilant,  like  a  boy  out  of  school.  He 
would  smile  like  a  father  on  the  sullen,  sweating,  curs 
ing  crew,  and  then  his  face  would  light  up,  and  he 
would  draw  in  a  long  breath  of  the  spicy  air  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  I  '11  have  another  of  the  same,  please." 

Right  here  occurred  a  small  incident.  It  was  a 
first-class  mutiny.  Sun,  warm  water,  hard  work  and 
nine  months  at  sea  took  the  frazzled  loose  ends  of  our 
piratical  crew  and  twisted  them  into  a  knot  that  was 
like  to  have  finished  us  all.  We  all  knew  it  was  com 
ing  as  soon  as  we  fetched  smooth  seas  and  open  going. 
It  broke  at  midnight  when  the  bos'n  did  n't  relieve  the 
wheel.  The  man  steering  quietly  left  his  post  and  the 
brig  came  banging  up  into  the  fresh  wind. 

I  was  just  turning  things  over  to  the  second  mate 
when  this  happened,  and  the  skipper  was  standing  in 
the  stairway  to  the  cabin  in  his  pajamas.  Of  course 
one  of  them  jumped  for  the  wheel,  while  I  ran  for 
ward.  I  got  exactly  as  far  as  the  corner  of  the  deck 
house  when  a  long  hairy  arm  shot  across  my  shoulder 
and  a  knife  tickled  my  windpipe.  But  Everett  was 
too  smart.  Something  burned  my  cheek,  and  the  man 
who  held  the  knife  seemed  to  lose  his  balance  and  went 


STRANGE    PORTS  289 

down,  grabbing  at  my  legs.  I  ran  back,  the  report  of 
a  revolver  in  my  ears. 

It  was  a  night  of  velvet  set  with  spangled  stars  that 
shone  with  a  sort  of  splendid  blue  flame.  The  wind 
was  fresh  and  the  sea  smooth.  You  could  see  a  man's 
bulk  plainly,  but  you  could  n't  see  his  face  or  his  hands. 
That  made  it  bad.  But  Everett  simply  walked  for 
ward,  with  his  revolver  in  his  hand,  and  the  second 
mate  and  myself  back  of  him.  I  shall  never  forget 
that  walk  down  the  jumping  deck  of  the  old  El  Dorado. 
It  seemed  hours  that  we  were  stepping  through  the 
clinging  darkness  under  the  thundering  sails,  and  all 
that  time  Everett  was  whistling  gently  to  himself.  The 
second  mate's  head  was  rocking  regularly  on  his  shoul 
ders  as  he  peered  first  over  one  of  the  skipper's  raised 
arms  and  then  over  the  other. 

Our  slow  advance  must  have  scattered  the  wits  of 
the  men,  who  likely  expected  to  end  it  all  in  a  rush. 
At  any  rate  they  did  n't  break  in  a  body,  but  slithered 
here  and  there  like  men  dodging  bricks.  But  the  bos'ri 
—  and  he  was  a  man  indeed  —  saw  that  this  would  n't 
do,  and  slipped  out  and  drove  his  big  knife  full  at  the 
old  man's  throat.  Everett  let  out  a  loud,  surprised 
whistle  and  his  gun  went  off.  The  bos'n's  knife  clat 
tered  against  the  bulwark  and  he  himself  clapped  down 
on  the  deck  like  a  board.  The  old  man  fired  again, 
stared  at  the  threshing  yards  and  let  out  a  yell,  "  Man 
the  braces !  " 

Yes,  sir,  they  turned  to  like  little  children  with  their 
thumbs  in  their  mouths,  leaving  their  dead  on  the  deck 


where  the  hauling  queues  of  men  trampled  them  to  the 
tune  of  Sant'  Anna.  And  when  the  dawn  burnt  up 
the  darkness  the  crew  was  done  for.  Everett  looked 
'em  all  over  carefully  and  then  told  the  sailmaker  to 
sew  the  corpses  up  in  canvas.  Then  he  drank  his 
coffee  and  smiled. 

That  afternoon  we  buried  them,  the  two  dead  men, 
with  prayer  book  and  all.  When  the  brig  was  on  her 
course  again  Everett  went  down  into  his  cabin  and 
called  me.  "  I  hope  I  did  what  was  right,  Mr.  Grind- 
ley,"  said  he.  "  In  a  way  I  am  responsible  for  this 
outbreak." 

"  I  told  you  these  hands  would  make  trouble,"  I 
said. 

"  That 's  one  reason  I  signed  on  such  men,"  he  re 
marked  quietly.  "  In  all  my  time  at  sea  I  never  had 
any  such  trouble,  and  I  wondered  whether  —  whether 
I  could  handle  such  a  crowd.  It  was  an  experiment 
of  mine.  Remember  Ferguson  ?  He  quelled  five  mu 
tinies,  they  say.  Good  man,  Ferguson.  I  merely  won 
dered  if  I  was  up  to  it,  that 's  all.  Well,  poor  fellows! 
All  my  fault,  too." 

Sounds  crazy,  does  n't  it  ?  Getting  a  crew  of  cut 
throats  just  to  see  if  one  can  manage  'em?  But  I 
want  you  to  understand  that  I  did  n't  see  anything 
crazy  about  it  at  the  time.  I  had  got  used  to  Silas 
Everett  and  his  ways.  He  was  going  on  a  picnic  he  'd 
missed  when  he  was  a  kid,  and  it  was  n't  my  place 
to  cut  the  rope  to  his  swing  or  eat  his  banana  or  hide 
his  clothes  when  he  was  in  swimming. 


STRANGE    PORTS  291 

Next  day  we  sighted  a  lump  of  land  that  struck 
me  as  being  first-class  in  every  particular,  quite  dif 
ferent  from  the  bits  of  islands  we  had  seen  so  far. 
"  That 's  China,"  says  Everett  solemnly.  "  I  've  never 
seen  China  before."  He  sat  down  by  the  wheel  and 
enjoyed  it.  Later  he  remarked  that  we  would  lie  in 
Hue  a  long  time.  "  I  'm  going  to  see  some  of  this 
China,"  he  said. 

"  You  'd  have  done  it  easier  by  taking  the  Peking 
to  Hongkong,"  I  suggested. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  've  done  with  liners,  Grind- 
ley,"  he  said  familiarly,  as  it  was  n't  my  watch.  "  I 
missed  all  this  when  I  was  a  boy.  Think  of  landing 
in  a  small  boat  in  a  town  you  never  saw  before  or 
heard  of  till  you  saw  it  on  the  chart." 

"  It 's  a  strange  port,  all  right,"  I  said,  not  thinking 
till  I  caught  Everett's  blush  that  I  had  given  myself 
away. 

"  That  was  the  way  Columbus  cleared  his  ships,"  he 
told  me  solemnly. 

"  Well,  you  're  the  Columbus  of  Hue,  anyway,"  I 
said.  "  I  wonder  how  long  it 's  going  to  take  us  to 
make  it  ?  Tow  in  ?  " 

"  There  is  n't  a  tugboat  there !  "  he  said  trium 
phantly.  "  We  're  going  to  see  China  right,  my  son." 

That  sea  is  worth  looking  at.  The  next  day  I 
watched  the  water  foaming  under  the  bows,  the  sky 
like  thick  blue  glass  overhead,  and  smelt  the  sharp, 
moist  air  and  enjoyed  it.  Native  junks  tooled  along 
like  pictures  on  a  revolving  ribbon.  Odd  canoes  slunk 


292    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

out  of  little  bays,  and  an  ancient  tub  of  a  paddle- 
wheel  steamer  went  in  and  out  of  openings  in  the 
coast  like  a  big  bumblebee  poking  its  bill  into  flowers. 
We  stood  on  up  the  sea  under  plain  sail. 

I  was  called  at  four  o'clock  the  next  morning  to 
relieve  the  second  mate,  and  when  I  came  on  deck  I 
found  that  we  were  out  of  sight  of  land  again.  The 
skipper  pointed  to  the  chart.  I  saw  the  wind  had 
hauled  and  we  were  a  good  forty  miles  off  the  coast, 
which  here  entered  into  a  big  bight.  Pitch  dark  it 
was,  and  a  strong  current  setting  against  us.  I  took 
the  deck. 

Just  before  dawn  I  thought  I  saw  a  vessel's  lights 
to  windward  —  the  wind  set  off  shore  —  but  I  could 
make  nothing  out  till  the  first  light  came.  Then  I  saw 
it  was  a  big  junk,  painted  a  gaudy  red  and  black  like 
a  chimney  sweep's  cart.  It  was  moseying  along  under 
a  hugeous  big  sail,  and  the  steersman  was  perched  far 
out,  hanging  to  the  end  of  his  rudder  sweep.  That 
was  all,  except  that  the  junk  was  being  edged  over 
toward  the  El  Dorado  by  the  swift  current.  Everett 
came  on  deck  and  watched  it  a  while.  Then  he  got 
his  glasses.  The  strange  craft  was  apparently  forging 
ahead  of  us. 

Half  an  hour  later  it  was  n't  a  cable's  length  away 
and  Everett  was  staring  at  it  with  puckered  brows. 
"  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  that  affair,"  he  told  me,  over 
his  shoulder.  The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth 
when  he  jumped  for  the  wheel,  calling  the  watch  to 
the  braces.  I  saw  a  score  of  bare-chested  men  climb- 


STRANGE    PORTS  293 

ing  up  the  bulwarks  of  the  junk  with  knives  in  their 
teeth  and  the  steersman  was  jamming  his  helm  over 
so  as  to  thrust  the  junk  in  towards  our  brig.  I  let 
out  a  roar,  and  all  hands  piled  up  out  of  the  fo'c's'le. 
The  old  man  lifted  his  upper  lip  over  his  teeth  and 
said  in  a  loud,  clear  voice,  "  They  're  pirates.  Give 
the  hands  knives." 

The  second  mate  caught  the  last  words  as  he  dived 
up  the  steps,  tumbled  back,  and  ten  seconds  later  was 
spilling  a  heavy  rack  of  big  knives  out  on  the  deck. 
The  seamen  grabbed  at  them,  I  took  the  wheel,  and  the 
second  mate  jumped  forward  to  keep  the  Chinks  from 
cutting  away  our  headgear.  The  junk  swung  up  against 
the  brig  with  a  bump  and  Everett  ran  down  among 
the  men,  revolver  in  one  hand  and  knife  in  the  other. 

For  twenty  minutes  I  sailed  the  brig,  single-handed, 
while  that  hellion  crew  of  ours,  with  the  old  man  and 
the  second  mate  in  the  thick  of  them,  slashed,  bit  and 
mauled  those  Chinks  as  they  piled  up  and  on  our  decks. 
Thank  God  for  those  nail-chewers  I  'd  licked  across  ten 
thousand  miles  of  open  water !  I  prayed  for  the  resur 
rection  of  the  bos'n  and  his  fellow  corpse.  I  kept  the 
brig  full,  steered  her  like  a  small  boat  and  watched. 

You  understand  that  the  first  thing  these  pirates 
tried  to  do  was  to  cut  away  our  gear.  They  knew  that 
if  they  could  render  the  brig  helpless  they  had  all  day 
to  finish  the  job  in.  With  an  ordinary  white-headed 
crew  we  would  have  been  goners  in  ten  minutes.  But 
our  men  were  boiling  for  a  scrap,  tough  as  knots,  filled 
with  ginger,  gall  and  grit.  I  saw  whole  rows  of  claw- 


294    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

like  hands  clutch  our  rails  as  the  Chinks  piled  up  tooth 
and  nail.  From  where  I  was  I  could  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  crowds  on  the  deck  of  the  junk  waiting  their 
chance,  and  the  boss  of  them,  in  a  bright  yellow  shirt, 
yelling  and  shrieking  at  them  from  the  after-deck. 
Then  I  'd  see  knives  flash  out  and  the  hands  drop  off, 
one  by  one,  and  I  'd  hear  great,  agonized  cries  of  pain. 
But  they  had  managed  to  get  a  chain  hooked  over  the 
port  channels  and  it  held,  with  the  weight  of  the  junk 
pulling  on  it.  And  the  more  hands  were  cut  and 
mashed  the  more  men  seemed  to  swarm  up  the  poor 
brig's  sides. 

I  could  see  that  we  were  fighting  with  the  odds  against 
us,  and  every  now  and  then  a  Chink  managed  to  stick 
his  toes  in,  hold  on  for  a  second  and  drive  his  ugly 
cutlass  into  one  of  the  hands.  Two  of  our  men  were 
groaning  on  the  hatch  already,  and  I  could  see  that 
the  pirates  below  were  loading  a  round-bellied  cannon, 
and  the  yellow-shirted  fiend  was  passing  out  guns. 
Something  had  to  be  done  and  done  quickly.  I  dared 
not  leave  the  wheel,  for  the  breeze  was  freshening 
and  we  were  in  a  perfect  tide-rip.  But  fortune  took  it 
out  of  my  hands.  A  dozen  of  the  pirates  managed  in 
some  way  to  pull  round  our  bows  in  a  small  boat  and 
they  piled  over  the  lee  bulwarks  like  a  swarm  of  flies. 
I  dropped  the  wheel,  grabbed  a  handspike  and  tumbled 
down  on  the  main  deck  to  do  my  best.  Inside  of  five 
seconds  I  was  sorry  I  had  come. 

Ever  fight  with  a  dozen  hyenas  ?  Those  Chinks  were 
the  worst  men  I  ever  ran  up  against.  They  bit,  tore, 


STRANGE    PORTS  295 

scratched,  knifed,  shot,  kicked  and  spit.  I  was  naked 
to  the  waist  in  a  minute  and  my  shoes  were  gone  in 
two.  But  Everett  had  seen  what  was  happening  and 
he  edged  his  men  round,  back  to  back,  and  yelled  to 
the  second  mate,  who  was  nearest  the  cabin,  to  run 
there  and  hold  it  so  that  the  Chinks  could  n't  get  to 
windward  of  us  that  way. 

Our  leaving  the  bulwarks  had  allowed  still  more 
pirates  to  scramble  up,  and  they  cut  the  braces  in  a 
minute.  I  saw  Everett's  face  settle  into  a  hard,  wicked 
knot  when  he  glanced  up  from  the  middle  of  the  scrim 
mage  and  saw  the  yards  banging.  But  that  saved  us. 

The  brig  lost  headway,  was  caught  by  the  current, 
swung  back,  and  then  the  sails  filled  for  a  moment, 
and  I  saw  the  junk  slide  away  from  us  and  drag  ahead. 
The  sails  emptied  again,  and  as  the  brig  rose  on  a 
big  swell  the  junk  was  jerked  bodily  up  under  the  cut 
water.  The  crash  of  the  collision  threw  us  down  on 
our  hands,  the  whole  boiling  of  us.  Assorted  yells 
came  from  the  junk,  the  pirates  ran  to  the  sides  of  the 
brig  and  our  sweating  men  jumped  on  them  and  the  rest 
was  a  slaughter.  In  half  an  hour  the  decks  were  clear 
of  the  living  pirates,  and  on  the  wreckage  of  the  junk 
were  floating  a  few  Chinks  whom  the  second  mate 
potted  from  the  fife  rail. 

We  had  lost  two  men  killed  outright  and  every  man 
jack  was  wounded.  I  had  a  rotten  slash  in  the  arm 
myself.  I  saw  Everett  grinning  over  us,  his  hand 
wiping  at  the  breast  of  his  torn  shirt.  "  Mr.  Grindley," 
he  called  out  clearly,  "  please  turn  the  men  to  to  clean 


up.  Overhaul  the  running  gear  and  get  the  yards 
braced.  Tell  the  cook  to  get  breakfast  for  all  hands." 

"  He 's  dead,  sir,"  said  somebody,  and  Everett 
frowned. 

"  How  many  are  dead  ?  "  he  inquired  in  a  very  loud 
voice.  I  answered  him.  "  Two,  —  the  cook  and  the 
carpenter." 

"  Tell  off  two  men  as  cook  and  carpenter,"  he 
croaked,  and  started  to  step  slowly  toward  the  poop. 
But  he  didn't  get  far.  One  of  the  hands  leaped  for 
ward  and  caught  him  as  he  fell. 

We  laid  him  on  a  bit  of  sail  on  the  after-deck  and 
stared  down  at  him,  careless  of  the  threshing  yards. 
Across  his  chest  ran  a  deep  cut,  and  every  breath  he 
took  sent  bubbles  out  of  it.  He  looked  up  at  us  and 
rocked  his  head.  "  Turn  the  men  to,"  he  said  in  a 
whisper.  "  Get  the  brig  under  way  again.  Don't 
mind  me." 

The  damage  to  the  ship  was  slight,  and  half  an 
hour  later  I  came  back  to  the  quarter-deck  and  looked 
down  at  the  skipper.  He  smiled  up  at  me  and  I  knelt 
down  so  as  to  catch  what  he  was  trying  to  say.  "  It 
was  a  great  fight,"  he  whispered.  "  What  luck !  I 
wouldn't  have  missed  it  ...  after  twenty-three  years 
on  a  mail  boat.  .  .  .  I  'd  like  to  see  China.  But  I 
sha'n't.  Take  the  brig  home  .  .  .  neither  wife  nor 
child  ...  I  suppose  folks  won't  understand,  but  it 
does  n't  matter,  my  son  ...  a  great  lark.  Bury  me 
in  Hue." 

He  was  passing,   and  the  shadow  of  the  spanker 


STRANGE    PORTS  297 

shaded  his  face  wet  with  sweat.  I  listened.  He  was 
smiling  to  himself.  Suddenly  his  eyes  flashed  over  me 
and  toward  the  thick,  blue  sky.  "  I  'm  clearing  for  the 
last  time  .  .  .  for  a  strange  port,"  he  muttered.  He 
was  silent  again  for  an  interval,  then  suddenly  raised 
himself  on  one  elbow.  His  right  hand  shaded  his 
steady  eyes ;  he  drove  his  sobbing  breath  out  in  a  loud 
cry,  "Land,  ho!  " 

I  threw  a  spare  sail  over  him  and  laid  the  course  for 
Hue. 


JAMES   GALBRAITH,  ABLE-BODIED 
SEAMAN 

WE  were  talking  idly,  leaning  back  in  our  chairs  on  the 
lanai  of  the  Moana  Hotel  in  Honolulu.  My  companion 
was  telling  me  about  the  loss  of  the  bark  Quickstep, 
whose  captain  sat  across  the  lawn,  gazing  stupidly  out 
at  the  gaudy  Pacific,  with  an  expression  of  bewilder 
ment. 

"  Yes,  they  fired  him.  The  local  inspector  went  for 
him,  I  can  tell  you !  Just  sailed  into  him  and  told  him 
he  was  no  seaman  at  all !  Took  away  his  master's  papers 
for  one  year,  by  Jove !  and  nearly  kicked  him  out  of 
the  office.  A  shame,  too!  Look  at  the  man's  reputa 
tion:  never  had  an  accident  before.  Because  he  aban 
dons  a  leaky  old  tub  that 's  sinking  under  his  feet,  they 
disgrace  him." 

The  speaker  lit  another  cigar,  flinging  the  match 
away  with  a  nervous  and  scornful  gesture.  "  It 's  a 
shame !  " 

Across  the  lanai  came  Thomas  Price,  master  of  the 
tank  steamer  Murray  Wells,  and  my  friend  hailed  him 
jovially.  "  What  you  doin'  out  here  at  Waikiki,  you 
old  fraud  ?  Is  the  Wells  in  drydock,  that  you  're  free 
for  an  hour  ?  " 

Captain  Price  smiled  gently,  shook  hands  quite  for 
mally,  with  a  vast  grip,  and  sat  down.  "  The  ship  's  all 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  299 

right,"  he  announced.  "  But  that  wharf -pump  is 
choked.  Been  choked  two  hours.  So  I  thought  I  'd  run 
out  here."  He  took  off  his  cap  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

"  Yes,  of  course  something  happened."  The  speaker 
turned  to  me,  tossing  his  head  to  emphasize  the  satire 
of  his  remark.  "  The  Wells  has  been  crossing  the  Pacific 
for  three  years,  carrying  crude  oil,  and  in  all  those  three 
years  Captain  Price  here  has  n't  been  ashore  an  hour 
at  either  end  of  the  run.  Think  of  it!  Gets  into 
Monterey  eight  days  out  from  Honolulu,  ties  up,  and 
the  pumps  start  throwing  oil  into  her  hold  again,  while 
Price  skips  out,  buys  a  morning  paper,  gets  a  box  of 
cheap  cigars,  hands  in  his  accounts  and  papers  at  the 
office,  comes  back,  and  sails  for  Honolulu  after  being 
just  four  hours  in  port  after  a  voyage  of  twenty-five 
hundred  miles.  Crosses  the  ocean  and  gets  into  Hono 
lulu  at  10  P.M.,  pumps  the  oil  out,  buys  an  evening 
paper,  turns  in  his  accounts,  buys  six  sacks  of  rice,  and 
is  off  for  Monterey  again  before  daylight.  Wah !  Why 
don't  you  quit  and  be  a  street-car  conductor  ?  The  sea  's 
no  place  for  a  man  any  more." 

"  We  keep  pretty  steady  at  it,"  Price  agreed  gently, 
looking  at  me  with  a  slightly  humorous  glance,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  Listen  to  the  lad !  " 

"  Why,  they  run  ships  nowadays  just  like  the  old 
Fifth  Avenue  busses  in  New  York.  Up  and  down  and 
up  and  down.  Then  they  fire  you  if  they  don't  like  the 
color  of  your  hair  or  you  're  sassy  to  a  lady  passenger. 
Look  at  poor  old  Stuntser,  there.  Left  the  Quickstep 
just  half  an  hour  before  she  foundered.  Did  his  best, 


by  Jove !  And  they  take  his  ticket  away  from  him  — 
disgrace  him !  Punish  him  as  if  he  were  a  thief !  It  'a 
a  rotten  shame,  by  Jove !  "  He  looked  at  us  with  great 
ferocity,  chewing  on  his  cigar  and  evidently  enraged  to 
the  last  degree. 

Price  nodded  slightly  and  thoughtfully.  "  Well," 
he  said  gently,  "  I  suppose  they  looked  at  it  this  way : 
he  did  n't  bring  her  in." 

"Bring  her  in!     Man,  she  sank!" 

"  Well,  then,  he  let  her  sink,"  Price  went  on  imper- 
turbably. 

"  My  heavens,  Price,  what  sort  of  a  machine-made 
man  are  you,  anyway  ? "  came  the  cross  demand. 
"  Would  you  have  had  the  man  go  down  with  an  old 
tub  like  the  Quickstep?  Ain't  one  man's  life  worth 
more  than  ten  Quicksteps?  Say,  ain't  it,  now?" 

The  captain  of  the  tanker  looked  at  us  meditatively. 
"  Oh,  of  course,"  he  said  presently,  digesting  the  matter 
thoroughly.  "  If  they  were  passengers.  Certainly,  of 
course." 

"  Passengers !  "  roared  our  companion,  in  huge  dis 
gust.  "  Are  n't  sailors  worth  saving  ?  Say,  are  n't  they  ? 
You  're  a  sailor.  Answer  me." 

Price  flushed  faintly.  "  Stuntser  was  the  captain. 
He  was  paid  to  bring  the  Quickstep  into  port." 

"  Look  here,"  was  the  response.  "  The  Quickstep's 
cargo  was  plain  cement,  worth  something  or  other  a 
barrel.  She  carried  a  crew  of  sixteen.  She  was  sink 
ing.  Stuntser  quit  her  three  hundred  miles  offshore  — 
came  in  in  a  little  open  boat,  without  the  loss  of  a  man. 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  301 

By  Jove !  after  all  that,  —  saving  his  crew  an'  all,  — 
they  fire  him.  It 's  a  burning  shame !  And  you  run 
your  old  tanker  like  a  street-car,  at  the  beck  and  call  of 
some  little  clerk  in  Monterey  and  another  little  clerk  in 
Honolulu.  Say,  do  you  ring  in  a  time-clock  when  you 
get  in  and  when  you  leave  ?  " 

I  almost  got  up,  the  tone  was  so  insulting.  But  Price 
simply  flushed  a  little  deeper  and  shook  his  head  mildly. 
"  You  're  young,"  he  said  very  gently.  "  I  used  to  think 
just  that  way.  But  I  always  remember  Galbraith  — 
James  Galbraith,  A.B." 

"  Galbraith  ?  Galbraith  ?  Don't  remember  him. 
Who  was  he?  What  did  he  do ?" 

The  captain  of  the  Murray  Wells  glanced  at  me 
apologetically.  "  He  shipped  with  me  once.  I  was 
very  young  at  the  time;  really  had  no  business  with  a 
command.  It  was  a  long  time  ago.  It  doesn't  matter." 

For  the  first  time  I  interfered.  "  I  'd  like  to  hear 
about  him,  if  you  don't  mind,"  I  insisted. 

"  Mind  ?  Oh,  of  course  not.  Why  should  I  mind  ? 
Well,  this  was  the  way  of  it. 

"  I  was  a  youngster  on  the  steamship  Ardmore,  one 
of  the  steel  wool-ships  the  Yellow  Funnel  line  ran  years 
ago  to  the  Colonies.  I  was  fourth  officer  —  just  out  of 
my  'prentice  days,  you  know,  and  quite  lucky  to  get  a 
start  in  so  good  a  line.  We  carried  coal  up  to  Vladivo 
stok  that  voyage  from  Japan,  and  found  no  place  to 
discharge  our  cargo.  It  was  in  the  fall,  cold  and  a  little 
stormy.  We  lay  there  for  a  month. 

"  Just  above  us  I  used  to  see  an  ancient,  dingy,  bark- 


302    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

rigged  steamer,  lying  to  a  weedy  cable.  She  was  small, 
top-heavy,  and  miserable-looking.  Her  name  —  it  was 
in  white  capitals  across  her  stern  —  was  the  Patrick 
Dare.  I  understood  she  was  a  sealer  that  had 
been  caught  by  the  cruisers  off  the  Pribilof  Islands 
and  condemned  as  a  poacher.  She  was  waiting  to  be 
sold. 

"  They  found  us  a  place  to  discharge  our  coal,  and 
we  set  to  work,  sweating  through  the  short,  chilly  days, 
up  to  our  eyes  in  dust  and  grime.  I  did  n't  like  the  job. 
We  of  the  second  mess  used  to  complain  bitterly  at  night. 
!Not  where  the  old  man  could  hear  us,  though.  We  were 
afraid  of  him.  One  morning  the  captain  came  and  called 
me  out  of  the  'tween-decks.  '  Do  you  want  to  take  the 
Patrick  Dare  to  Honolulu  ? '  he  asked  me.  '  A  Japanese 
has  bought  her  and  loaded  her  with  stuff  for  his  firm 
down  there.  There  is  n't  a  man  in  port  who  can  or  will 
take  her  out.  They  came  to  me  about  it.  You  '11  have 
command,  of  course.  An  ugly  job  —  pick-up  crew. 
Will  you  go  ? ' 

"  I  am  amazed  now  that  I  took  it.  But  I  was  young. 
I  had  never  commanded  a  vessel.  That  old,  weedy  sealer 
suddenly  became  magnificent  in  my  eyes  and  utterly 
desirable.  I  left  the  Ardmore  in  an  hour,  looking  back 
at  the  cloud  of  grime  and  dust  that  hung  over  her,  with 
pity  for  the  men  who  were  condemned  to  stay  with  her 
in  their  vile  and  commonplace  toil.  I  even  thought  a 
little  scornfully  of  the  old  man,  who  would  continue  in 
his  decent,  unadventurous  position,  conning  that  big 
steel  hull  through  commercial  waters,  with  freight  rates 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  303 

at  one  end  of  the  vista  and  engineers'  indents  at  the 
other.  While  I  — 

"  Well,  I  saw  my  new  employer.  He  was  a  delicate- 
fingered  Japanese,  quite  alert  and  businesslike.  '  You 
had  better  sail  immediately/  he  told  me.  '  The  ice  will 
soon  freeze  here.  You  will  make  the  voyage  in  nineteen 
days.  Leave  to-morrow.  That  will  get  you  into 
Honolulu  on  Wednesday,  the  thirtieth  of  November. 
See  ? '  He  laid  it  out  for  me  with  his  pencil  on  the 
blotter  that  lay  on  the  counter.  And  when  he  was  done, 
he  went  and  counted  out  a  small  bag  of  gold  coin  and 
handed  that  to  me.  '  For  the  ship's  expenses.  I  have 
engaged  a  crew.  The  engineer  is  an  American;  the 
mate  also.  The  rest  are  Japanese,  Captain.' 

"  I  left  that  little  office  with  the  last  word  ringing  in 
my  ears.  I  suppose  I  strutted  through  the  bazaar  with 
the  air  of  an  emperor  or  a  freshly  commissioned  ensign. 
I  took  a  sampan  and  started  out  on  the  bay  for  my  new 
command,  with  the  bag  of  coin  in  my  pocket,  my  instru 
ments  on  my  lap,  and  the  ship's  papers  in  a  tin  case  at 
my  feet.  My  pride  received  a  slight  setback  when  I  told 
the  Chinese  boatman,  '  The  Patrick  Dare/  for  he 
glanced  at  all  my  paraphernalia,  my  uniform  (minus 
the  insignia,  which  I  had  turned  in  to  the  steward  of  the 
Ardmore,  of  course),  and  then  at  the  rotten  craft  I  was 
bound  for.  The  final  insult  was  when  he  took  his  fare 
and  turned  away  without  the  usual  demand  to  be  my 
sampan-man  for  the  ship.  Evidently  he  thought  that 
the  Patrick  Dare  could  not  afford  a  sampan  during  its 
stay  in  port. 


304    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  The  mate  received  me  at  the  gangway,  and  the 
engineer  thrust  his  tousled  head  out  of  the  half-deck 
with  watery  eyes  fixed  on  me.  l  How-do,  Cap'n,'  he 
greeted  me.  f  When  are  them  stores  comin'  off  ? ' 

"  Now,  this  was  a  natural  question  which  I  should 
have  been  able  to  answer.  I  knew  it,  but  I  knew  noth 
ing  of  the  stores.  Nobody  had  said  a  word  about  them. 
I  carried  it  off  with  a  '  Stores  will  be  off  this  afternoon. 
Got  all  your  coals  ? ' 

"  He  nodded  apathetically,  and  I  turned  to  the  mate 
with  relief.  He  was  a  slight,  energetic-looking,  sharp- 
faced  fellow,  about  my  own  age.  He  told  me  the  crew 
was  on  board  and  that  what  things  he  could  find  to  do 
he  had  done.  l  We  've  all  Japs,  sir,'  he  informed  me. 

"  l  This  is  a  Japanese  vessel,'  I  responded  with  dig 
nity.  e  Cargo  stowed  ? ' 

"  '  Yes.     This  old  tub  leaks/ 

"  '  What  did  you  expect  ? '  I  demanded. 

"  '  Nothing,'  was  the  sulky  answer,  and  he  went  off 
cursing  the  Japanese  roundly. 

"  You  have  no  notion  how  disappointed  I  was  as  I 
inspected  my  new  craft.  The  solitary  virtue  that  I  could 
find  in  her  was  possibilities  of  speed.  The  engineer, 
who  cursed  her  from  keelson  to  truck,  admitted  that  she 
was  heavily  engined  and  that  her  lines  were  good.  '  But 
she'll  shake  the  plates  out  of  her,'  he  asserted  loudly. 
'  She 's  got  high-speed,  single-actin'  machines,  and 
they  '11  chew  and  chew  and  chew  till  the  hull  opens  up 
like  a  rotten  orange  or  she  drops  her  propeller.'  The 
boilers  were  bad.  The  starboard  water-tank  leaked  like 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  305 

a  sieve.  The  donkey-engine  was  wholly  out  of  commis 
sion  from  rust  and  disuse.  The  bunkers  were  filled  with 
the  vilest  of  coal. 

"  I  left  him  and  went  ashore,  after  long  signaling  for 
a  sampan,  to  fetch  off  some  provisions  which  the 
Japanese  steward  said  were  to  come  to  us.  They  had 
not  arrived,  and  I  was  bent  on  sailing  at  dawn.  So  I 
went  after  them. 

"  I  found  the  comprador,  and  made  him  understand 
that  there  was  no  pay  coming  unless  the  provisions  were 
on  board  by  sundown.  Then  I  went  up  to  the  Admiralty 
Building  to  get  my  correct  time. 

"  As  I  came  out  and  was  hurrying  through  the  bazaar, 
an  old  man  met  me.  He  looked  at  me  a  moment  and 
then  said,  t  Captain,  want  another  hand  ? ' 

"  I  stopped  and  stared  at  him.  I  saw  an  aged,  rather 
feeble-looking  European.  His  hands  were  stubby- 
fingered,  and  the  backs  of  them  tattooed.  His  face  was 
big,  round,  with  a  fringe  of  white  beard.  He  took  off 
his  cap,  and  I  saw  that  his  hair  was  thick  and  gray.  But 
he  gave  every  appearance  of  being  too  old  to  work.  I 
told  him  so. 

"  ( I  've  got  good  discharges,  sir,'  he  croaked,  reaching 
into  some  huge  pocket  and  dragging  out  a  tremendous 
book  of  them.  '  All  V.  G.,  sir.' 

"  Now,  I  was  in  a  hurry.  However,  it  suddenly  ran 
through  my  mind  that  here  was  an  old  seaman  who 
might  have  to  starve  all  winter  if  he  did  n't  get  a  ship 
for  the  outside.  I  knew  the  Ardmore  would  n't  take  him, 
and  the  only  other  craft  in  port  was  the  American  ship 


306    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Charles  F.  Sargent.  She  had  been  laid  up,  for  my  mate 
had  been  third  on  her  and  was  taking  this  chance  to  get 
out  of  Vladivostok.  The  old  man  held  out  his  pre 
posterous  bunch  of  papers  and  repeated,  '  They're  all  V. 
G.,  sir.  In  sixty  years  I  never  got  a  bad  discharge, 
sir.7 

"  Why  didn't  I  tell  him  he  was  too  old  ?  you  ask.  God 
knows.  Because  I  was  young  and  pitiful  and  puffed  up 
with  pride  and  anxious  to  show  my  capacity,  I  nodded 
to  this  ancient  shellback,  and  he  followed  me  into  the 
sampan  and  out  to  the  Patrick  Dare.  Here  I  turned 
him  over  to  the  mate.  '  I  guess  we  '11  take  this  man  with 
us/  I  told  him.  l  Put  him  on  the  articles,  will  you  ? ' 
Then  I  was  busy  till  dark. 

"  I  had  had  my  supper  alone  in  the  dingy  saloon, 
when  the  same  old  sailor  came  into  my  cabin  cap  in 
hand,  and  croaked  out,  i  Speak  to  you,  sir  ? ' 

"  i  What  is  it  ? '  I  demanded  crossly. 

"  (  Mr  Buxton  wants  to  sign  me  on  as  ordinary  sea 
man,  sir.  I  'm  A.B.,  sir ;  I  've  been  A.B.  for  sixty 
years.  James  Galbraith,  A.B.,  sir.' 

"  I  fancy  I  stared  at  him  a  long  while,  for  he  started 
to  draw  out  his  bundle  of  discharges  again.  I  capitu 
lated  on  the  spot.  '  Present  my  compliments  to  Mr. 
Buxton,'  I  told  him,  '  and  ask  him  to  come  here.' 

"  When  Buxton  came  I  ordered  him  to  sign  the  old 
man  on  as  able-bodied  seaman. 

" '  He  's  too  old  to  be  any  good,'  the  mate  protested. 
But  I  insisted,  and  he  went  off  grumbling. 

"  Before  turning  in  I  went  out  on  deck  to  see  that  all 


JAMES    GALBRAITH         307 

was  well.  The  engineer  was  sitting  in  his  cabin  scrawl 
ing  on  his  slate.  In  response  to  my  inquiries,  he  said 
that  he  was  all  ready  to  go,  as  ready  as  his  engines  ever 
would  be  —  giving  me  to  understand  that  he  had  doubts 
of  our  arriving  anywhere,  on  account  of  the  weakness, 
inefficiency,  and  general  worthlessness  of  the  Patrick 
Dare's  machinery.  On  my  way  back  to  my  room  I 
passed  the  old  seaman.  He  was  busy  over  a  boat- 
lashing  and  paid  no  attention  to  me. 

"  I  was  up  shortly  after  midnight,  and  at  dawn  the 
Patrick  Dare  had  sixty  fathoms  of  grassgrown  cable 
dripping  on  her  forward  deck,  an  ancient  wooden-stocked 
anchor  was  at  the  cathead,  and  down  below  the  rusty, 
high-speed  engines  were  whining  shrilly.  From  my 
place  on  the  bridge  I  saw  the  harbor-lights  swing  a  little 
and  then  begin  to  drop  astern.  The  mate  joined  me, 
and  wanted  to  know  what  to  do  with  the  anchor-cable. 
I  told  him  to  stow  it  as  best  he  could,  regardless  of  its 
weeds  and  barnacles.  Then  I  rang  to  the  engine-room 
for  full  speed,  and  we  trundled  off  into  the  eye  of  the 
belated  dawn,  making  something  like  twelve  knots  an 
hour,  I  reckoned.  As  we  passed  the  Ardmore,  standing 
out  of  the  dark  water  like  a  huge  building,  I  pulled  the 
whistle-cord,  and  an  appalling  guttural  blast  of  sound 
rose  into  the  chill  air.  Ten  minutes  later  we  signaled 
the  guard-vessel  below  and  tooled  out  into  the  lower 
bay. 

"  Three  days  afterward  the  mate  and  the  engineer 
and  I  sat  at  table,  at  our  meagre  supper.  We  were  dis 
gusted  with  the  ship  and  with  each  other.  Buxton,  the 


308    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

mate,  threw  his  roving  eyes  about  the  saloon  and  openly 
cursed  the  whole  outfit,  easily  and  freely.  '  By  heavens, 
I  never  thought  I  'd  get  down  to  this,'  he  told  me.  '  Now, 
you  've  got  a  good  berth  waiting  for  you,  Captain,  when 
you  get  this  old  tub  into  port.  But,  I  swear,  I  '11  be 
ashamed  to  look  for  another  ship.  Who  'd  have  thought 
I  'd  ever  work  for  a  Jap  ? ' 

"  The  engineer  glanced  up  from  his  plate,  and  his 
watery  eyes  held  a  doubtful,  sly  look  that  offended  me. 
1  If  she  breaks  down  we  '11  have  a  devil  of  a  time  getting 
to  shore,'  he  said,  almost  menacingly.  '  And  it  '11  serve 
these  stingy  Japs  right,  too.  Just  serve  the  villains 
right  to  lose  this  old  tub,  blast  'em.  Nobody  but  a 
heathen  would  send  such  a  craft  to  sea.  And  of  course 
she  's  not  insured  ? '  He  glanced  carefully  at  me.  I 
nodded,  and  he  burst  out,  '  Yes,  that 's  the  way ! 
Could  n't  trust  their  own  dirty  countrymen  to  take  this 
hooker  to  Honolulu;  had  to  get  white  men!  We  get 
nothin'  but  wages,  and  they  rake  in  the  profits ! '  He 
shook  his  head  threateningly  and  departed  to  his  engine- 
room,  quivering  with  rage. 

"  The  mate  glanced  at  me  and  winked.  '  Booth  ain't 
stuck  on  his  job,'  he  remarked.  '  Well,  if  we  don't  fetch 
her  in,  there 's  no  harm  done.  What 's  a  Jap,  anyway  ? 
Let  'em  run  their  own  coffins.'  And  he  strolled  away. 

"  I  sympathized  with  my  two  officers ;  they  were  the 
only  two  white  companions  I  had ;  I  really  was  much  of 
the  same  opinion  as  they.  I  cursed  my  first  command 
and  the  Japanese  that  owned  her.  Really,  she  was  a 
scandal. 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  309 

"  But  we  mogged  along,  and  as  the  engines  recovered 
from  their  years  of  disuse  we  made  steadily  better  time. 
The  weather  grew  fine  after  we  were  out  of  the  Japan 
Sea  and  into  the  Pacific,  and  the  days  grew  fewer  that 
I  must  count  before  I  handed  the  Patrick  Dare  over  in 
Honolulu. 

"  My  only  recreations  these  days  was  James  Galbraith. 
The  mate  had  watched  him  about  his  work  for  a  day  or 
so,  and  then  dubbed  him  Able-bodied,  a  grim  jest  on  his 
rating  on  the  articles  and  his  real  physical  weakness. 
The  doddering  old  chap  pottered  round  the  deck,  did 
odd  jobs,  kept  himself  incessantly  busied  over  useless 
tasks.  As  the  rest  of  the  crew  were  Japanese,  I  ac 
cepted  with  great  formality  Buxton's  jesting  remark 
that  we  ought  to  make  him  second  mate.  I  can  see  the 
old  chap's  face  when  I  called  him  up  and  told  him  I 
had  decided  to  have  him  act  as  a  second  mate,  and  for 
him  to  move  his  luggage  (he  had  only  a  little  bag  of  it) 
into  the  empty  room  next  to  mine.  He  fumbled  his  cap, 
stared  up  at  the  stubby  masts  of  the  Patrick  Dare,  and 
croaked,  '  I  never  was  an  officer,  sir.  I  've  stood  the 
second  mate's  watch,  but  I  'm  no  officer,  sir.  I  've  dis 
charges,  sir,  to  show  that  I  've  always  done  my  duty. 
If  you  say  so,  I  '11  act  as  second  mate.' 

"  '  Certainly,'  I  responded  curtly,  and  Buxton,  with 
infinite  humor,  promptly  handed  him  over  my  watch, 
as  the  mate  and  I  were  standing  watch  and  watch.  '  It 
will  give  the  captain  a  rest/  I  heard  him  explain 
solemnly,  when  I  had  stepped  away.  It  was  a  great 
joke,  of  course. 


310    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  The  old  fellow  took  it  all  seriously.  For  two  days 
we  enjoyed  it,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  I  was  slightly 
astonished  to  find  that  it  had  ceased  to  be  a  joke.  Old 
Galbraith  was  a  good  officer.  He  was  far  better  than 
Buxton.  He  handled  the  crew  in  an  easy,  masterful 
style  that  even  I  envied.  And  the  Japs  seemed  perfectly 
satisfied  to  jump  when  he  croaked  at  them.  Now  and 
again  he  would  say  in  all  seriousness  to  me,  '  I  've  never 
been  an  officer,  sir,  before.  I  've  always  been  an  A.B., 
not  having  the  learning  required.  My  discharges  will 
show  that  I  have  done  my  duty  well,  sir.'  And  I  'd  re 
spond,  '  You  are  doing  all  right,  Mr.  Galbraith.'  Then 
the  old  chap  would  stare  out  of  his  old  eyes  and  clasp 
the  bridge-rail  in  his  worn  old  fingers  and  stand  a  little 
straighter  and  throw  a  little  more  volume  into  his  queer, 
husky  voice. 

"  Once  Galbraith  insisted  on  showing  me  his  dis 
charges.  I  sat  at  the  little  desk  in  his  room  while  he 
stood  hovering  over  me,  handling  the  musty,  stained, 
crackling  papers  that  recorded  his  sixty  years  at  sea.  By 
Jove!  you  ought  to  have  seen  that  prodigious  mass  of 
papers !  Old  discharges  written  by  some  long-dead 
captain  by  the  light  of  a  torch  on  some  East  Indian 
wharf  fifty  years  before;  others  with  the  neat  scrawl 
of  Her  British  Majesty's  consul  in  some  port  you 
never  heard  of  —  an  endless  succession  of  slips  of  paper 
testifying  under  oath  that  James  Galbraith  had  done  his 
duty  as  an  able-bodied  seaman  with  good  will  and  good 
judgment. 

"  '  I  'm  getting  old,  now/  he  said  suddenly.     '  It 's 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  311 

hard  to  get  a  ship  these  days.  They  tell  me  I  'm  too 
old,  sir.' 

"  '  How  old  are  you  ? '  I  asked  him. 

"  '  Seventy  years  old/  he  croaked,  gathering  the  papers 
up  in  his  shaking  hands. 

"  '  That 's  too  old  to  work/  I  said  carelessly.  '  Why 
don't  you  quit  it  ? ' 

"  He  glanced  at  me  apologetically,  with  a  feeble  shake 
of  his  gray  head.  '  I  'm  only  an  A.B./  he  muttered. 
'  What  would  I  do  ashore  ?  I  never  stopped  ashore.' 

"  What  was  there  to  say  to  him  ?  Nothing.  I  looked 
at  him.  His  years  of  arduous  and  ill-paid  toil  were 
heavy  upon  him.  He  was  losing  the  strength  that  had 
fought  and  vanquished  so  many  seas  on  so  many  ships. 
His  eyes  were  dimming.  He  was  old.  What  could  he 
do  ?  What  was  the  reward  of  this  outrageous  task  that 
destiny  had  imposed  on  his  manhood  and  which  he  had 
accomplished?  It  made  me  think,  I  tell  you.  It  oc 
curred  to  me  that  each  day  some  seaman  suddenly 
reached  the  limit  of  his  inglorious  activity,  was  no 
longer  signed  on  by  mates  or  picked  out  by  anxious 
skippers  —  passed  up  forever  by  the  users  of  the  sea. 
And  what  had  he  learned  ?  What  had  his  life  amounted 
to  ?  It  was  a  question,  was  n't  it  ? 

"  Day  after  day  I  watched  Galbraith  about  his  self- 
appointed  duties  and  wondered  what  would  become  of 
him  when  he  *  signed  clear '  in  Honolulu.  Probably  this 
was  his  last  voyage.  Nobody  else  would  be  so  foolish 
as  I.  What  would  become  of  him  ? 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  determined  that  all  this  was 


312    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

an  injustice  to  Galbraith.  In  those  days  I  accepted  most 
of  what  was  as  right  and  proper.  I  might  try  to  ex 
plain,  but  I  don't  remember  questioning  the  justice  of 
fate  or  Providence.  I  was  young,  and  why  should  I  ? 
Age  brings  the  doubts  that  hurt  and  destroy. 

"  One  thing  did  impress  itself  slowly  on  my  mind : 
the  difference  between  Buxton  and  the  acting  second 
mate.  Buxton  was  cock-sure,  able,  alert,  loud-mouthed, 
quite  fancy  at  times  in  his  language  and  his  notions  of 
his  own  dignity.  Galbraith  was  silent,  slow,  impassive, 
inexorably  busy,  never  giving  utterance  to  a  thought,  an 
imagination,  or  anything  but  an  order.  The  endless 
spangles  of  stars  in  the  sky,  the  rolling  horizon,  the 
changing  sea  never  seemed  to  call  up  a  single  abstraction 
in  his  mind.  He  seemed  to  move  in  a  world  where  things 
came  up  in  regular  order  to  be  done  and,  being  done, 
passed  into  the  preterit  forever.  ISTow  and  then  he  dis 
played  an  odd  skill  or  silently  employed  a  daring 
manoeuver  that  showed  that  he  had  studied  his  profes 
sion  with  thoroughness  and  understanding.  But  other 
wise  he  was  simply  an  old  man,  fast  declining  in 
strength  and  able-bodiness. 

"  I  set  our  course  so  as  to  enter  the  Hawaiian  archi 
pelago  much  farther  south  than  is  usually  done.  In 
fact,  I  made  so  that  I  would  see  the  island  of  Laysan, 
which  is  very  far  out  of  the  ordinary  course.  But  I 
reckoned  that  we  should  lose  little  time  by  doing  this, 
and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  did  n't  trust  the  seaworthiness 
of  the  Patrick  Dare.  First,  she  was  ill  laden ;  second, 
she  was  leaking  badly  somewhere  aft.  I  thought  it 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  313 

would  do  no  harm  to  run  among  the  islands  in  the 
case  of  accident. 

"  We  sighted  Laysan  and  headed  east  for  Honolulu, 
engines  going  full  speed,  smooth  sea,  fair  breeze.  Then, 
with  the  suddenness  of  an  explosion,  the  engines  jarred 
off  the  propeller,  sent  the  tail-shaft  grinding  after  it, 
and  stopped  with  a  roar  of  steam  and  a  leaping  of  decks. 
Booth,  the  engineer,  crawled  out  on  deck,  hanging  to  a 
Japanese  oiler,  and  swore  feebly.  The  firemen  and  the 
assistant  engineer  followed  them  with  yelps  of  fear. 

"  It  was  mid-afternoon,  and  Galbraith  was  on  watch. 
Buxton  was  asleep  in  the  saloon,  and  I  was  reading  a 
book.  I  came  on  deck  with  a  jump,  Buxton  hard  at  my 
heels.  Galbraith  was  staring  down  at  the  engineer, 
flinging  questions  at  him  which  that  scalded  artisan  an 
swered  with  groans  and  tossings.  It  did  not  take  us  long 
to  estimate  the  damage.  It  was  irreparable.  The  water 
was  pouring  in  the  broken  stern-bearings,  flooding  the 
engines.  In  time  the  Patrick  Dare  would  sink.  True, 
she  might  live  for  a  day.  She  might  live  for  a  week, 
could  we  get  the  pumps  going.  But  the  pumps  were 
below,  clouded  in  hot  steam.  And  the  white  plume  on 
the  funnel  showed  that  the  fires  were  going  out  fast. 

"  While  the  crew  stood  round  with  gaping  mouths, 
Buxton  and  I  talked  it  over.  '  We  gotta  quit  her  right 
away/  he  said.  '  Laysan  is  astern  there,  not  over  a  hun 
dred  miles.  We  can  make  it  to-morrow  in  a  small  boat. 
We  gotta  do  it,  and  do  it  quick/ 

"  Really  that  seemed  the  only  course.  I  ordered  him 
to  get  the  boats  ready,  and  went  about  the  work  of 


314    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

saving  the  papers,  finding  out  the  particulars  of  the 
breakage,  and  assuring  myself  the  case  was  hopeless.  I 
must  say,  had  we  been  in  any  steamer  track  I  would 
have  held  on,  waiting  to  be  picked  up.  But  we  were  a 
hundred  miles  out  of  the  usual  track.  We  might  lie 
there  a  month  without  sighting  a  sail. 

"  The  poor  old  craft  settled  very  gradually,  by  the 
stern.  Now  and  then  she  rolled  in  a  queer,  distress 
ing  way.  Buxton  passed  and  repassed  with  anxious 
face.  The  engineer  was  squatted  on  the  deck,  oiling  his 
burns  and  wrapping  his  arms  and  neck  with  waste. 
Galbraith  was  on  the  bridge,  silent  and  apparently 
asleep,  so  far  as  any  comprehension  of  what  had  hap 
pened  was  concerned. 

"  It  was  just  sundown  when  Buxton  reported  that  all 
was  ready.  He  had  our  three  boats  swung  out,  with 
provisions  and  water  in  them,  and  the  crew  mustered. 
The  Dare  was  riding,  her  bow  a-cock,  tumbling  wildly 
in  the  heavy  swell.  '  She  won't  last  long,  sir,'  Buxton 
rattled  off.  *  We  're  all  ready  to  go  now.  What 's  the 
course,  sir  ? ' 

"  '  West  by  south,'  I  told  him. 

"  '  All  right,  sir.  We  '11  follow  you.  —  Mr.  Booth, 
take  No.  2  and  keep  just  astern  of  the  Captain !  ' 

"  I  suppose  I  hesitated,  for  he  snapped  out,  l  Shall 
you  take  Galbraith  with  you  ? ' 

"  '  Certainly,'  I  replied,  and  looked  around  for  him. 
I  did  not  see  him,  and  turned  and  told  them  to  clear 
away  their  boats  and  start  out.  '  I  '11  follow  later,'  I 
said. 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  315 

"  The  two  boats  pulled  away,  and  the  six  or  seven 
Japanese  who  composed  my  boat's  crew  waited  impas 
sively.  I  went  in  search  of  Galbraith.  I  found  him 
nowhere  on  deck.  I  searched  the  ship  for  him,  and  at 
last  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  hammer  tinkling  on  metal, 
somewhere  in  the  hold.  I  went  down  the  engine-room 
ladder  to  the  'tween-decks  and  yelled,  ( Galbraith ! 
Galbraith!' 

"  Far  below  I  saw  a  sudden  gleam  of  light  on  the 
shallow  water  that  swept  back  and  forth  as  the  Dare 
rolled  in  the  seaway.  A  white  face  was  turned  up  to  me, 
and  the  old  fellow's  croak  ascended :  '  Send  another  man 
down  here,  Captain.'  The  face  was  withdrawn,  and  I 
heard  the  tin-tink-tinkle  of  metal  on  metal  again. 

"  Now,  I  fully  intended  to  order  Galbraith  up  and 
into  the  boat.  Instead,  I  went  on  deck  and  ordered  two 
Japs  down  to  help  him.  They  went  without  a  word, 
lowering  themselves  into  the  dark  engine-room  swiftly 
and  silently.  I  sat  down  on  the  nearest  hatch  and  won 
dered  what  Galbraith  was  doing.  A  pretty  thing  for 
the  master  of  a  ship  to  do! 

"  Presently  it  struck  in  on  me  that  I  had  better  be 
doing  something  myself.  Four  sailors  were  still  stand 
ing  round,  watching  the  departing  boats,  which  were 
now  mere  specks  on  the  fast-darkening  ocean.  I  set  to 
work  to  hoist  what  sail  I  could  to  the  freshening  breeze. 

"  An  hour  later  the  Dare  was  swinging  along  to  the 
westward  at  a  very  fair  gait.  I  put  a  man  at  the  wheel 
and  took  a  lantern  and  went  below.  It  was  not  till  I 
reached  the  platform  far  below  that  I  saw  Galbraith's 


316    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

light.  There  were  three  or  four  feet  of  water  washing 
about  the  engine  hold,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  at  work 
far  in  the  shaft-tunnel.  I  managed  to  find  sufficient 
footing  to  claw  my  way  to  him.  He  was  jamming  some 
calking  in  about  the  edges  of  a  plank  shutter  he  had 
made  to  stop  the  tunnel.  The  water  was  squirting  round 
him,  and  he  swore  as  he  worked. 

"  When  he  had  braced  it  to  suit  him,  he  croaked  out, 
'  That  '11  hold  a  while.  Now  let 's  get  them  pumps 
a-going.'  He  saw  me  and  waved  his  hand  respectfully. 
'  She  was  leaking  down  this  tunnel  over  the  shaft,  sir. 
So  I  stopped  it  up.  Not  enough  '11  come  in  now  to  hurt, 
just  so  we  can  get  the  pumps  going.  Where's  the  en 
gineer  ?  He  can  get  his  fires  going  again  and  pump  her 
out.' 

"  l  The  engineer  's  gone,'  I  told  him.  '  But  the  as 
sistant  is  here.'  I  turned  and  ordered  the  Japanese 
machinist  to  start  the  fires,  get  up  steam,  and  clear  the 
pumps. 

"  Without  a  word  those  heathen  went  to  their  task 
alertly  and  energetically.  As  Galbraith  climbed  up  the 
ladder  and  I  followed  him,  I  looked  back  into  the  hold 
and  saw  the  lanterns  glow  out  into  the  murk  as  they  lit 
them.  Then  came  a  rattle  of  orders  in  Japanese,  and 
the  grunting  song  of  the  men  swinging  to  their  gear. 

"  On  deck,  Galbraith  glanced  at  the  sails,  nodded, 
spat  over  the  side,  and  asked,  l  Where  's  the  mate  and 
the  engineer,  Captain  ?  ' 

"  t  They  thought  the  ship  was  sinking  and  skipped  out 
with  two  boats  for  Laysan.' 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  317 

"  He  pondered  this,  and  shook  his  head,  with  profound 
wisdom.  '  The  mate  's  too  young,'  he  rasped  mildly. 
'  Does  he  think  he  's  a  passenger  ? ' 

"  His  voice  rolled  along  the  deserted  deck  to  the  bridge 

and  the  man  at  the  wheel :  '  Full  and  by,  you 

! '  He  followed  it  with  a  bellow  into  the  engine- 
room  :  '  Come  up  here,  two  of  you,  and  set  the  f oretop- 
mast  stays'l ! ' 

"  I  was  amazed.  You  could  not  have  imagined  such 
a  volume  of  tone  issuing  from  so  feeble  a  frame.  And  it 
carried  the  note  of  command,  of  insistent  and  relentless 
discipline.  Two  men  rushed  up  and  on  deck,  staring 
round  fearfully,  muttering,  '  Fbretopmas'  stays'l,  sir ! ' 
as  though  suddenly  wakened  from  a  deep  slumber. 

"  They  ran  the  staysail  up  smartly ;  other  sails,  too. 
I  saw  Galbraith  dive  into  lockers  and  drag  out  huge 
rolls  of  clumsily  bound  canvas.  His  men  sweated  under 
his  quick  orders,  and  the  slender,  ill-stayed  masts  of  the 
Dare  were  clothed,  yard  by  yard,  with  drumming  sails. 
And  as  each  new  cloth  went  aloft  and  was  spread,  she 
drove  on  more  swiftly. 

"  By  midnight  we  were  under  all  plain  sail,  and  the 
assistant  engineer  reported  that  the  leak  was  under  con 
trol.  Galbraith  was  on  the  bridge,  conning  the  little 
vessel  with  skill  and  prudence,  his  gray  head  barely 
crowned  by  his  old  cap,  now  rakishly  on  one  side.  His 
great  bellow  filled  the  decks  when  he  hurled  an  order, 
and  I  saw  his  pale  eyes  steady  like  those  of  a  youth 
whenever  they  caught  something  amiss. 

"  Dawn  found  us  hastening  along  with  a  big  curl  of 


318    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

white  water  under  our  bows.  The  wind  was  gradually 
hauling  and  we  headed  the  Dare  up  for  Honolulu.  Gal- 
braith  smiled  as  he  saw  how  close  to  the  wind  we  sailed, 
and  muttered,  '  Better  'n  steam,  any  day.' 

"  I  had  difficulty  to  get  him  to  turn  in  and  sleep. 
His  long-slumbering  spirit  seemed  to  have  wakened. 
He  betrayed  no  sign  of  fatigue  or  weariness.  His 
hands  still  shook,  to  be  sure,  but  they  obeyed  his 
muscles  easily.  Now  and  then  he  glanced  at  me  with 
a  triumphant,  respectful  glance,  as  much  as  to  say, 
'  You  still  have  a  mate ;  don't  worry  because  Buxton 
is  gone.' 

"  After  his  sleep  he  came  on  deck,  and  we  determined 
on  our  course  for  Honolulu.  When  that  was  done 
Galbraith  said  hoarsely,  '  Them  other  fellows  must  have 
thought  they  was  passengers!  What  did  they  sign  on 
for  ?  Heh  ?  Scared !  Heh  ?  But  we  '11  take  her  in, 
sir.' 

"  Another  time  he  approached  the  subject  from  an 
other  point  of  view. 

"  l  Some  of  these  young  chaps  think  their  bally  hides 
are  too  precious  to  risk.  What  'd  that  owner  sign  'em  on 
for  ?  To  save  their  own  skins  ?  Heh  ?  No.  To  take 
the  ship  to  Honolulu.' 

"  Now  I  have  confessed  that  I  nearly  left  the  Dare 
myself  —  my  first  command,  too.  But  I  could  not  have 
explained  why  I  stayed,  or  why  Buxton's  going  was  so 
paltry  an  affair,  till  the  old  seaman's  words  rang  in  my 
ears :  '  What  did  the  owner  sign  them  on  for  ?  ...  To 
take  the  ship  to  Honolulu/ 


JAMES    GALBRAITH  319 

"  During  the  next  three  days,  as  we  beat  up  for  Oahu, 
I  pondered  this  long. 

"  At  my  elbow  was  James  Galbraith,  for  sixty  years  a 
sailor  before  the  mast,  unhonored,  ill-paid,  cared  for  by 
no  one;  yet  doing  his  single  duty  with  great  steadfastness 
of  purpose  and  simplicity  of  heart  —  earning  his  wage. 
I,  in  the  heat  of  youth,  had  been  willing  to  throw  away 
my  trust  and  save  my  own  life,  thinking  that  it  was 
worth  more  than  the  business  I  was  on.  I  had  been 
saved  from  that.  The  big  lesson  had  been  written  before 
me  —  by  James  Galbraith,  A.B.  Because  he  had  learned 
this,  and  lived  it,  his  pocket  bulged  with  insignificant 
papers,  discharges  from  a  hundred  ships  that  he  had 
served  well.  Now,  at  the  end  of  a  long  life,  he  passed 
on  to  me  the  duty  of  earning  my  wage,  handing  over  to 
me  the  sum  of  his  laborious  toil :  to  take  my  ship  to  its 
port. 

"  It  is  a  hard  lesson.  You  will  find  many  who  value 
a  human  life  above  all  else.  That  is  right  and  proper. 
But  at  sea  you  are  not  paid  to  live :  you  are  paid  to  do 
your  duty,  as  others  do  it,  without  repining,  steadfastly, 
earning  your  wage." 

"  And  you  got  in  all  right  ? "  I  demanded,  when  he 
paused. 

"  We  did.  I  left  Galbraith'  to  look  after  the  ship,  and 
I  went  to  the  office  of  the  consignees.  I  'm  afraid  I  laid 
some  stress  on  the  shape  the  Dare  was  in,  but  the 
Japanese  merely  nodded  and  paid  me  off,  after  my  ac 
counting.  Never  a  word  about  my  bringing  in  a  steamer 
that  was  practically  a  wreck.  And,  after  all,  he  was 


320    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

quite  just.  I  recall  that  I  said  nothing  about  the  six 
hands  who  had  stayed  with  us  because  we  had  needed 
them." 

"  And  James  Galbraith  ?  " 

The  master  of  the  Murray  Wells  put  on  his  cap  and 
prepared  to  go.  "  Galbraith  ?  I  don't  know.  Shipped 
out  for  some  place  or  other,  I  suppose.  Good  man,  too. 
I  gave  him  a  first-class  discharge  to  put  with  all  the 
others  in  his  big  book." 

"  Nothing  more  ?  "  I  demanded  incredulously  — 
"  after  all  his  work  and  —  " 

Price  glanced  down  at  me  with  a  faintly  puzzled  ex 
pression.  "  More  ?  What  more  ?  He  was  paid  for  it." 

He  left  us,  striding  back  to  the  big  tanker  and  his  in 
cessant  industry,  leaving  me  and  my  companion  to  stare 
at  the  disrated  master  of  the  wrecked  Quickstep,  still 
bowed  down  by  the  weight  of  a  punishment  he  could  not 
comprehend. 


THE   VOICE    OF   AUTHORITY 

THE  captain  of  the  Gaelic  stood  in  the  doorway  of  thei 
smoking-room,  a  trim,  quiet  figure.  His  eyes  met  the 
glances  of  us  all  steadily  and  then  fixed  upon  the  judge's 
face.  "  The  engineer  reports  a  tube  blown  out  of  one  of 
the  boilers,"  he  said  calmly.  "  It  may  take  some  hours 
to  plug  it  up.  We  shall  be  on  our  way  before  long." 

The  judge  nodded  and  the  captain  vanished,  leaving 
behind  him  a  subtle  effect  of  having  stopped  us  midway 
of  our  course  of  conversation.  Somebody  spoke.  "  What 
did  the  captain  come  and  tell  us  that  for  ? " 

The  judge  turned  on  the  speaker  and  shook  his  head. 
"  The  captain  has  a  great  responsibility.  A  steamer 
stopped  in  mid-ocean  presents  unusual  possibilities  of 
trouble.  Nobody  worries  over  broken  machinery.  It 's 
the  people.  We  're  six  hundred  persons,  capable  of 
strange  things.  So  long  as  the  ship  goes  on  and  we  hear 
the  trundle  of  the  screw,  we  yield  to  the  subtle  manifes 
tation  of  authority,  we  obey  the  captain  because  it  is  he 
who  keeps  the  ship  on  her  course.  It  is  his  only  hold 
on  us.  If  he  fails  to  steer  true,  if  he  does  not,  day  in 
and  day  out,  maintain  the  harmonious  working  of  all  the 
machinery,  we  lose  confidence  in  him.  And  six  hundred 
people  offer  prodigious  possibilities  of  anarchy." 

"  But  he  can  depend  on  a  lot  of  us  to  help  him/'  came 


ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

another  voice.  "  I  guess  we  could  keep  things  in  order 
on  this  ship  if  worst  came  to  worst." 

"  Perhaps,"  the  judge  answered.  "  But  where  would 
we  get  our  authority  ?  From  the  captain  ?  You  see,  it 
all  depends  on  him  in  the  end." 

"  But  he  would  manage  to  call  on  some  one  who  would 
help  him,"  the  last  speaker  objected.  "  If  trouble  were 
brewing  he  would  certainly  call  for  help." 

The  judge  gazed  at  us  all  and  replied  heavily.  "  I  was 
on  the  Parthia  ten  years  ago." 

Interest  blazed  up  among  us.  "  She  lost  her  propeller 
off  Oonamak  "  —  "  You  were  three  months  adrift "  — 
"  I  understood  that  there  was  killing  "  —  "  How  was  she 
brought  in  at  last  ?  "  —  "  Who  was  the  unlucky  skip 
per  ?  "  —  "  Is  it  true  that  murder  —  ?  "  —  "  You  were 
there  ? " 

We  tossed  scraps  of  that  famous  tragedy  of  the 
Pacific  back  and  forth  about  the  judge,  vying  with  each 
other  in  throwing  suggestions  to  him,  innuendoes,  hints 
of  horror  and  terror.  And  he  gazed  austerely  at  us  till 
we  fell  silent.  Then  he  said,  "  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  know 
of  it.  But  I  can't  attempt  to  justify  my  opinions.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  we  were  saved  by  a  man  sixty  years 
behind  the  times,  a  missionary  to  the  heathen  who  was 
scorned  even  by  his  own  sect.  But  he  had  authority. 
That  is  the  only  explanation  I  can  offer  you.  When  you 
have  heard  the  facts  you  can  form  your  own  judgments. 

"  You  remember  that  the  Parthia  sailed  from 
Yokohama  in  August  of  1898  and  was  not  heard  from 
till  the  17th  of  December  of  the  same  year.  I  gather 


that  none  of  you  have  heard  anything  more  definite  than 
rumor  as  to  what  occurred  during  those  months  when 
the  Parthia  was  lost  to  this  world.  So  I  shall  start  in 
at  the  beginning  and  give  you  some  details. 

"  We  left  Yokohama  in  the  morning  and  our  destina 
tion  was  Seattle.  The  Parthia  was  not  a  large  vessel 
and  she  was  crowded  with  passengers,  not  of  the  tourist 
variety,  but  mainly  professional  men  and  their  families, 
clerks  homeward  bound  on  a  holiday,  captains  going  to 
the  Coast  to  take  charge  of  ships,  a  few  officers  en  route 
to  a  new  station  —  the  crowd  that  throngs  eastbound 
steamships  from  Oriental  ports  when  fares  are  low.  I 
myself  was  going  to  Maine  after  three  years'  service  as 
consul  in  an  interior  city.  The  captain  of  the  Parthia 
was  an  experienced  man  who  had  formerly  commanded 
sailing  ships ;  a  taciturn,  diffident  fellow  getting  well 
along  in  years.  The  crew  was  made  up  of  Europeans, 
except  in  the  steward's  department  where  Chinese  were 
employed. 

"  The  passage  was  expected  to  consume  twenty-four 
days. 

"  When  we  were  five  days  out  from  the  Japanese 
coast,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  propeller 
struck  a  floating  log  and  was  broken  off.  The  racket  of 
the  racing  engines,  the  hissing  of  steam  and  the  clatter 
of  rending  steel  was  terrific,  and  within  ten  minutes  after 
the  accident  three  hundred  men,  women,  and  children 
were  huddled  on  the  dripping  decks  of  the  Parthia 
peering  out  into  a  wet,  clinging  fog.  There  was  not  what 
you  could  reasonably  call  a  panic,  the  officers  of  the  ship 


324    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

behaved  excellently,  but  it  was  half  an  hour  before  we 
were  finally  assured  by  the  captain  himself  that  the 
steamer  was  uninjured  and  would  not  sink.  In  that 
space  of  time  the  nerves  of  us  all  were  thoroughly  un 
settled  and  we  went  back  to  our  staterooms  convinced 
that  a  gross  deception  had  been  worked  on  us.  We 
dressed,  and  by  six  o'clock  we  were  all  out  on  deck  again, 
prepared  to  demand  explicit  answers  to  our  questions. 

"  Captain  Myers,  unused  to  dealing  with  a  throng  of 
passengers,  failed  to  satisfy  some  of  us  that  we  knew  the 
exact  truth.  He  admitted  that  the  propeller  was  gone 
and  the  engine  disabled,  but  he  made  the  mistake  of  as 
serting  that  '  everything  was  all  right,'  and  that  it  was 
(  only  a  matter  of  time  till  the  steamer  would  be  under 
weigh  again.'  In  short^  he  allowed  his  consciousness  of 
having  to  depend  on  himself  to  influence  him  too  far. 
He  refused  to  recognize  what  we  thought  were  our  just 
claims  and  threw  all  the  weight  of  his  authority  upon 
us  to  make  us  keep  silence  and  accept  his  unsupported 
statement  as  to  our  present  and  ultimate  safety. 

"  Had  the  morning  been  bright  and  clear,  or  had  the 
accident  happened  at  some  hour  in  the  daytime,  it  is 
likely  that  we  would  have  been  in  a  different  temper. 
But  we  were  profoundly  conscious  that  we  had  barely 
missed  being  drowned  in  our  beds.  We  attributed  our 
safety  to  luck,  to  Providence,  and  therefore  suspected 
Captain  Myers  of  plotting  against  us.  In  short,  where 
as  individuals  we  would  have  congratulated  ourselves,  as 
a  crowd  we  were  sullen  and  distrustful. 
-  "  I  have  a  notion  that  the  captain,  inside  of  twenty- 


VOICE    OF    AUTHORITY      325 

four  hours  after  the  accident,  knew  how  we  felt.  He 
had  got  some  sail  on  the  steamer,  all,  in  fact,  that  she 
would  carry,  and  it  did  n't  give  her  steerageway  in  the 
baffling  foggy  breeze  that  blew  down  from  Kamchatka 
and  chilled  us.  But  he  stuck  to  his  assertion  that  we 
were  all  right  and,  as  I  view  it  now,  kept  his  head  excel 
lently. 

"  During  the  next  week  we  passengers  got  acquainted 
with  each  other  in  a  fashion  impossible  on  a  speeding 
liner.  IsTow  that  we  were  finally  assured  of  the  soundness 
of  our  vessel,  seeing  that  our  meals  were  regular,  our 
sleep  uninterrupted  and  the  discipline  of  the  crew 
unrelaxed,  we  drew  together  and  made  the  best  of  it. 
Really,  we  were  quite  contented  that  week.  True,  the 
fog  still  eddied  about  us  and  the  inefficient  sails  flapped 
drearily  on  the  slender  yards  and  the  Parthia  rolled  in 
the  trough  of  the  easy  swell.  But  we  were  engaged  in 
finding  out  who  we  were. 

"  I  recall  vividly  the  gradual  emergence  of  the 
Reverend  Jonas  Hampstead.  I  presume  that  none  of  us 
would  have  noticed  him  under  ordinary  circumstances. 
But  we  were  isolated,  for  an  indefinite  period,  and  we 
dug  into  each  other's  history  and  possibilities  and  char 
acters  with  unwearied  zest.  Among  three  hundred 
decent  and  colorless  folk  the  Reverend  Mr.  Hampstead 
stood  apart,  both  by  manner  and  by  action. 

"  He  was  a  spare,  pale  complexioned,  elderly  man  who 
clothed  himself  in  black,  rusty  garments  of  ancient  out. 
He  had  never  been  handsome  and  age  had  accentuated  a 
meager  jaw,  thin  nose,  and  stern  eyes.  His  hands  were 


326    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

crooked,  apparently  from  some  form  of  malnutrition,  and 
his  voice  was  harsh  and  nasal.  He  was  by  no  means 
retiring,  but  he  seemed  indifferent  to  all  the  rest  of  us. 
At  times  he  was  a  blanket  on  our  mild  festivities.  Not 
that  he  talked,  or  argued ;  he  simply  overlooked  us  with 
a  calmness  that  irritated.  For  some  time  we  knew  noth 
ing  of  him,  except  that  he  had  been  a  missionary  for  some 
Presbyterian  society  in  some  out-of-the-way  city  in  the 
inside  of  China. 

"  But  as  we  turned  expectantly  from  one  to  another 
for  amusement  our  eyes  constantly  fell  upon  the 
Reverend  Jonas  Hampstead.  He  aggravated  our  rest 
lessness.  He  tempted  us  to  impertinence,  with  his  air 
of  indifference,  of  contempt,  of  scorn  of  our  little  bust 
ling  activities.  And  one  by  one  we  pitted  our  audacity 
against  his  reserve  and  drew  him  out,  word  by  word,  till 
we  gathered  a  faint  sketch  of  his  history. 

"  He  was  seventy  years  old,  and  for  fifty  years  had 
been  preaching  the  gospel  to  the  heathen.  In  all  that 
time  (we  learned),  he  had  visited  the  United  States  but 
twice,  both  times  to  raise  funds  for  some  obscure  mission 
work.  The  last  time  he  was  home  had  been  ten  years 
before.  His  contempt  for  the  state  of  his  church  in 
America  was  profound. 

"  You  see,  Jonas  had  left  the  theological  seminary 
years  before  you  and  I  were"  born.  He  had  been  taught 
a  stern,  hard  religion,  the  religion  of  your  fathers  and 
mine ;  in  those  days  men  were  not  afraid  to  believe  hard 
things.  Jonas  had  gone  from  the  seminary  filled  in 
every  corner  of  his  narrow  soul  with  dogmas  of  predes- 


VOICE    OF    AUTHORITY      327 

tination  of  saints,  damnation  of  unbaptized  infants, 
salvation  by  grace  —  a  whole  category  of  things  we  no 
longer  dare  believe.  And  he  had  gone  out  to  the  heathen, 
carrying  to  them  the  message  of  an  unbending  and  harsh 
faith.  Can't  you  see  him,  in  that  forgotten  inside  city 
of  China,  preaching  hell  and  the  condemnation  of  sin 
ners  ?  And  he  had  been  constant  and  industrious.  He 
had  taught  what  he  believed  to  the  placid  and  un- 
astonished  heathen  day  in  and  year  out,  for  a  score  of 
years,  for  twoscore  years,  for  fifty  years.  And  all  the 
time  the  world  from  which  he  came  had  moved  on,  drop 
ping  by  the  wayside  the  doctrines  he  cherished  as  im 
mutable  and  eternal.  His  church  had  passed  by  him, 
hastened  on  to  broader  things,  to  easier  doctrines,  to 
popular  dogmas,  toward  liberality.  I  suppose  nobody 
had  ever  taken  pains  to  tell  him  that  Presbyterians 
did  n't  teach  election  of  saints  any  more.  I  doubt 
whether  he  would  have  listened,  anyway.  He  wasn't 
that  kind  of  a  man. 

"  So  here  he  was  among  us,  on  the  drifting  Parthia, 
and  we  studied  him  gleefully  and  several  young  mission 
aries  shook  their  heads  at  him  pityingly,  and  we  all 
laughed  in  our  sleeves  at  a  relic  of  a  time  we  had  never 
known.  Of  course  he  did  n't  catch  the  point  of  our  chat 
ter.  We  were  pert,  disrespectful  almost;  and  he  stood 
there  unmoved  by  it  all,  austerely  contemptuous  of  our 
business,  our  gossip,  our  petty  philosophy.  Once  in  a 
while  he  would  open  his  mouth  and  say  something,  when 
one  of  the  young  missionaries  stepped  too  boldly.  I  wish 
you  could  have  heard  him.  Jonas  did  n't  argue.  He 


328    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

merely  restated  a  fact,  coldly,  firmly.  And  I  have  seen 
the  younger  man  flush  angrily  and  turn  away  uneasily, 
as  though  somebody  had  whispered  a  caution  in  his  ear. 

"  You  observe  we  had  the  foundation  for  an  infinite 
jest.  We  had  Jonas,  an  antediluvian  in  faith  and  belief, 
a  ridiculous,  unmodern  figure,  and  we  had  all  the  leisure 
in  the  world  in  which  to  taste  the  joke  and  roll  it  under 
our  tongues  and  talk  it  over  and  laugh.  But  in  some 
way  the  jest  failed  to  march.  If  the  old  man  would  have 
argued  I  think  we  might  have  made  our  joke  good.  But 
you  see  he  never  offered  to  debate  a  matter.  He  settled 
it  calmly,  stating  his  doctrine  as  a  fact  indisputable  and 
exactly  true.  One  could  n't  hold  one's  face  against  that. 
It  shook  one's  whole  knowledge  of  the  world  when  Jonas 
laid  down  his  preposterous,  incredible  dogmas  as  with 
authority.  One  felt  that,  after  all,  one  ought  to  keep 
one's  beliefs.  He  made  us  feel  as  though  we  were 
deserters,  children  run  away  from  school,  truants  from 
faith. 

"  Possibly  all  this  bores  you.  But  I  must  impress  on 
you  the  general  character  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Hamp- 
stead,  for  he  suddenly  did  something  so  amazing,  so 
unexpected  that  We  gaped. 

"  I  must  confess  that  one  week  put  an  end  to  our  ac 
ceptance  of  Captain  Myers's  optimism.  The  eighth  day 
dawned  and  the  Parthia  still  swung  in  the  trough  of  the 
swell,  and  at  the  head  of  the  saloon  stairs  the  chart  bore 
testimony  to  the  fact  that  since  the  screw  had  been 
twisted  off  we  had  drifted,  sailed  and  sagged  just  sixty- 
seven  miles,  and  that  to  the  southward  and  not  eastward. 


VOICE    OF    AUTHORITY      329 

We  knew  that  it  would  take  a  gale  of  wind  to  give  the 
poor  sails  we  could  spread  power  enough  to  send  us  along 
toward  our  destination  at  even  the  slowest  pace.  Also 
we  had  figured  out  that  our  chances  of  being  picked  up 
by  another  vessel  were  slender  indeed.  Few  vessels  take 
any  route  we  were  traversing,  and  in  the  constant  fog  we 
feared  to  think  of  an  approaching  ship. 

"  I  was  one  of  the  committee  appointed  in  the  first 
cabin  to  confer  with  Captain  Myers  and  explain  to  him 
our  feeling.  It  was  a  dreary  meeting.  Myers  confronted 
us,  outwardly  at  ease,  but  displaying  at  intervals  an  un- 
sureness,  a  hesitation  that  did  not  fail  of  its  effect.  He 
went  at  length  into  the  fact  that  the  ship  carried  pro 
visions  enough  for  five  months,  that  we  were  comfort 
able  and  safe,  that  he  was  doing  his  best,  that  in  due 
time  we  would  be  missed  and  a  steamer  sent  to  look 
for  us.  He  had  it  all  figured  out  on  a  slip  of  paper. 
He  promised  us  relief  within  thirty  days. 

"  We  went  back  and  reported  in  the  saloon.  Mothers 
sat  and  listened  to  our  statement  of  the  result  of  our  mis 
sion  while  their  babies  cried  or  gurgled  or  played  on  the 
carpet  under  the  feet  of  the  silent,  unaffected  Chinese 
servants.  Some  bitter  words  were  said.  I  'm  afraid  we 
were  pretty  despondent.  But  we  agreed  to  put  up  with 
our  plight  for  thirty  days. 

"  It  was  an  interminable  month.  The  ship  steadily 
grew  uncomfortable.  We  stood  harshly  on  our  rights.  I 
recall  that  we  were  always  complaining  to  the  captain 
that  the  second-cabin  passengers  infringed  on  our  deck- 
room,  that  they  were  overbold  and  paid  no  attention  to 


330    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

the  usual  notices  restricting  them  to  certain  portions  of 
the  ship.  Myers  listened  to  everything  pleasantly, 
quietly,  silently,  his  gray  head  always  neatly  covered  by 
his  spotless  cap,  his  long  uniform  coat  carefully  buttoned 
across  the  chest.  But  he  did  n't  do  anything  —  but  wait. 

"  No  steamer  came  to  our  rescue.  The  thirty  days 
passed  and  a  week  besides.  The  committee  waited  on 
the  captain  again  and  insisted  that  something  be  done. 
A  boat  should  be  sent  off.  The  engines  should  be  re 
paired.  We  commanded  him  to  take  us  to  port.  This 
time  Myers  listened  frowningly.  He  explained  that  it 
was  over  a  thousand  miles  to  the  nearest  inhabited  land. 
All  the  resources  of  a  shipyard  would  be  needed  to  fix 
the  machinery.  He  was  doing  his  best.  We  must  wait. 

"  Then  we  exploded. 

"  It  should  have  been  avoided  at  any  cost,  that  loud, 
angry  debate  between  the  master  of  the  Parthia  and  us, 
the  outraged  passengers.  Our  hot  words  carried  all  over 
the  vessel,  clear  down  into  the  second  cabin,  into  the 
engine-room,  into  the  quarters  of  the  crew.  I  confess 
that  we  were  in  the  wrong  and  Myers  was  right.  But 
it  was  a  difficult  impasse.  It  ended  in  the  captain's  per 
emptorily  ordering  us  out  of  his  cabin. 

"  That  night  the  ship  seethed  with  discontent  and  even 
mutiny.  The  crew  hung  round  the  saloon  doors.  The 
firemen  sneaked  on  deck  and  listened  to  our  red-hot  argu 
ments  in  favor  of  seizing  the  ship  and  working  her  (God 
knows  how!)  into  some  port.  Women  wailed.  Chil 
dren  wakened  and  bawled  piercingly.  Men  cursed 
violently  and  we  welcomed  the  second-cabin  passengers 


VOICE     OF    AUTHORITY      331 

when  they  came  in  a  body  to  back  us  up  in  any  desperate 
measures. 

"  You  can  see  that  it  only  needed  a  match  to  explode 
the  magazine.  The  next  morning  a  seaman  refused  duty. 
He  stood  by  the  saloon  door  and  cursed  the  mate.  The 
captain  came  and  spoke  curtly.  He  ordered  the  rest  of 
the  watch  to  put  the  recalcitrant  in  irons.  No  one  moved. 
We  all  stood,  silently  waiting  for  the  outcome  of  the 
struggle.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  whole  ship  was  voice 
less,  while  the  grayhaired,  immaculately  dressed  captain 
stared  down  at  the  grinning  sailor.  It  is  unbelievable, 
but  nobody  of  us  all  raised  his  hand  or  gave  a  sign  in 
favor  of  authority.  Let  the  captain  fight  it  out. 

"  For  the  second  time  the  old  man  said  austerely,  '  Put 
that  man  in  irons.'  No  one  moved.  The  seaman,  drunk 
with  insolence,  laughed  loud  and  long,  staring  round  at 
us  all  as  much  as  to  say,  (  Look  at  me  !  I  'm  the  man  to 
talk ! '  And  Myers,  without  a  tremor  of  hesitation,  with 
out  a  look  at  any  of  us,  quietly  drew  a  revolver  from  his 
pocket  and  shot  the  man  through  the  forehead. 

"  For  the  moment  we  were  silent.  We  saw  the  dead 
man  curled  up  on  the  deck,  and  we  went  back  to  our 
rooms.  The  whole  situation  was  changed.  Our  informal 
agglutination  was  dissolved.  In  the  presence  of  death  it 
was  every  man  for  himself.  We  avoided  the  saloon.  We 
came  to  dinner  scatteringly  and  viewed  askance  the  figure 
of  the  captain  at  the  head  of  his  table,  imperturbable, 
silent,  steady-eyed.  Women  peeped  at  him  through  half- 
opened  doors.  One  heard  now  and  then,  from  some  cur 
tained  cabin,  the  sound  of  stifled  sobs.  We  men  did  n't 


332    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

speak  to  each  other.  We  moped  apart,  shaken  by 
mysterious  forebodings,  staring  at  the  gray,  cloudy  sea. 
Now  and  then  some  man  would  come  out  into  the  middle 
of  the  smoking-room,  light  his  cigar  with  a  flourish  and 
start  to  say  something.  But  we  would  look  aside,  get  up 
and  leave  him  to  mumble  inarticulately  to  himself;  we 
were  afraid. 

"  The  next  morning  we  rose  from  a  half -eaten  break 
fast  to  hear  the  sound  of  the  ship's  bell  tolling.  Heavy 
feet  tramped  by.  There  was  the  low  swish  of  canvas 
dragged  along  the  deck,  the  hoarse  voice  of  the  chief 
officer  muttering  commands.  We  came  out,  blinking, 
and  saw  the  captain  standing  on  the  lower  bridge,  in  his 
immaculate  uniform.  His  low,  quiet  tones  met  our  ears : 
'  Present  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Hampstead  and  ask 
him  to  read  the  burial  service.' 

"  I  feel  yet  the  sudden  surprise  that  we  evinced.  Why 
Hampstead  ?  Why  this  solemn,  stern  old  man  with  the 
crooked  hands  ?  Why  not  some  of  the  other  ministers  ? 
Why  not  the  man  in  sleek  bands  and  proper  cloth  who 
read  prayers  on  Sunday  in  the  first  cabin  saloon  ?  Why 
Hampstead  ? 

"  The  old  man  came  out,  his  worn  Bible  under  his 
arm,  and  took  his  stand  by  the  plank  on  which  the  canvas- 
swathed  body  lay.  And  as  he  did  so  we  realized  that 
Hampstead,  the  old  Presbyterian,  had  kept  himself  apart 
from  us.  He  had  taken  no  share  in  our  discussions.  He 
had  silently  refused  to  censure  the  captain,  to  blame 
Myers  for  our  great,  appalling  mishap.  We  recognized 
an  enemy  in  him.  He  was  not  one  of  us.  He  was  neither 


VOICE    OF    AUTHORITY      333 

shocked  nor  moved  to  priestly  rebuke.  We  scowled  at 
him.  He  approved  of  a  murder. 

"  So  fancy  to  yourselves  our  bitter  amazement  when 
Jonas  opened  his  Bible  and  read  in  a  harsh  voice :  l  Thy 
way  and  thy  doings  have  procured  these  things  unto  thee; 
this  is  thy  wickedness,  because  it  is  bitter,  because  it 
reacheth  unto  thine,  heart.'  Ten  minutes  later  they 
tipped  the  plank  and  the  body  of  the  sailor  slid  off 
into  eternity  and,  if  Hampstead  was  to  be  believed, 
into  hell. 

"  We  listened  with  dark  looks.  I  see  Hampstead's 
austere,  coloress  face  bent  on  us  in  stern  admonition, 
while  on  the  bridge  Myers  contemplated  us  all  with 
unperturbed  countenance.  The  ceremony  ended  and  I 
think  many  of  us  caught  the  glance  that  passed  between 
the  two  men  —  the  captain  who  had  killed  the  body  and 
the  minister  who  had  condemned  the  soul.  It  was  a 
brief,  poignant  interchange  of  steadfast  purpose,  as  if 
Hampstead  had  said  to  the  captain :  '  I  will  do  my  part. 
Be  strong,'  and  Myers  had  returned,  '  I  am  still  strong/ 

"  I  think  we  did  n't  lack  a  certain  courage  ourselves, 
for  we  took  pains  to  intimate  to  Hampstead  that  we 
detested  him,  that  we  thought  him  the  degraded  tool  of 
a  murderous  despotism.  Not  that  our  attitude  affected 
him.  He  was  unmoved.  He  looked  out  upon  us  with 
his  stern  old  eyes  and  gave  us  to  understand  that  he 
knew;  that  he  regarded  us  as  pettish  children,  who  had 
to  be  beaten  with  stripes  into  obedience  to  right,  and  to 
authority. 

"  Of  course,  we  left  him  out  of  our  discussions  after 


334    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

that,  carefully  avoiding  him  and  warning  one  another 
against  him.  By  this  time  we  looked  upon  the  captain 
as  a  monster,  bloodthirsty,  cruel,  desirous  of  outrage 
and  rapine.  It  sounds  ridiculous  in  the  telling,  but  we 
honestly  had  lost  all  sense  of  law  and  order.  Out  on 
the  dull,  fog-shrouded  Pacific  we  were  three  hundred 
people  battling  for  elemental  life.  And  our  first  and 
hottest  wrath  was  toward  the  embodiment  of  authority, 
against  the  calm,  immovable  soul  who  gazed  down  at  us 
from  the  bridge  and  controlled  us  and  ruled  us  and  gov 
erned  us  by  the  power  of  authority. 

"  So  we  went  from  hot  talk  to  cold  plotting.  Dis 
creetly,  silently,  we  went  about  organizing  ourselves 
into  a  band  to  seize  the  ship  from  the  captain  and  take 
her  into  some  port  How?  We  had  a  dozen  schemes. 
Only  let  us  get  the  upper  hand,  we  stormed,  and  we  '11 
save  ourselves.  Were  we  to  stand  for  murder  and  slow 
starvation  ?  Not  we.  We  were  American  citizens.  We 
were  able  to  look  out  for  ourselves.  We  were  n't  going  to 
stand  Myers's  insolence  and  incapacity  any  longer. 

"  Some  of  us  (I  'm  ashamed  to  say  it)  tampered 
with  the  crew.  We  were  mad,  of  course,  but  then,  we 
were  in  a  hard  plight  and  the  constant  view  of  women 
crying,  the  incessant  sound  of  women  whispering  in 
distress,  gets  on  one's  nerves.  And  the  steamer  still 
rolled  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  and  the  chart  still 
showed  that  our  infinitesimal  progress  led  no  whither. 

"  I  sha'n't  go  into  details,  but  one  night,  when  the 
deepest  of  us  in  the  plot  did  n't  suspect  it,  trouble 
broke  out.  In  that  bitter,  disillusioning  half  hour  we 


VOICE    OF    AUTHORITY      335 

learned  our  lesson,  —  the  lesson  taught  by  a  crew  out 
of  hand,  drunk  with  stolen  liquor  and  maddened  by 
release  from  long  restraint.  The  Parthia  became  a 
hell.  The  wildest  of  us  were  terror-stricken  at  sight 
of  the  lawless,  blazing  passions  of  the  men  whom  we 
had  ourselves  approached  with  proposals  of  a  mutinous 
character.  As  we  trampled  on  each  other  to  get  within 
the  shelter  of  the  cabin,  as  we  heard  the  shrieks  of 
fleeing  women,  the  oaths  and  wild  uproarious  laughter 
of  pursuing  fiends,  as  we  rushed  out  only  to  be  hurled 
back  by  rough  arms  and  crashing  fists,  we  realized  that 
between  us  and  our  women  and  our  children  and  the 
worst  of  fates,  there  stood  only  the  arm  of  Captain 
Myers  and  his  authority. 

"  It  was  dark  night  and  we  could  see  neither  friend 
nor  foe.  I  recall  that  I  myself  stood  on  the  saloon 
stairs,  clinging  to  the  banisters,  staring  upward  at 
the  closed  door  beyond  which  the  battle  was  raging. 
Now  and  again  a  sharp  report  echoed  down  to  us  and 
we  held  our  breath,  knowing  that  death  was  abroad. 

"  Gradually  all  of  us  huddled  round  the  stairs,  gaz 
ing  up  at  the  huge  door  that  gave  and  strained  under 
the  impact  of  hurtling  bodies.  We  wondered  how  we 
should  come  out.  One  man  would  whisper  across  to 
his  neighbor  to  know  whether  one  might  count  on  the 
officers  standing  by  the  captain.  Another  would  groan, 
licking  his  dry  lips  with  trembling  tongue.  Women, 
holding  their  children  to  their  breasts,  swayed  among 
us,  wide-eyed,  ready  to  scream  when  the  big  door  be 
tween  them  and  unspeakable  outrage  crashed  inward. 


336    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  You  will  say  that  three  hundred  of  us  should  havo 
mastered  the  crew.  But  you  must  remember  that  we 
were  unnerved,  shot  through  with  suspicion,  strug 
gling  in  the  net  of  fear  and  horror  and  weakness. 
And  the  crew  outnumbered  the  men  of  us.  Oh,  it 
was  a  sweet  plight  that  we  had  got  ourselves  in! 

"  The  door  opened  —  at  last.  We  held  our  breath 
and  peered  miserably  at  the  blank  darkness  it  dis 
closed.  ~No  one  appeared.  From  outside  came  the 
sound  of  sighs,  of  odd,  choking  groanings.  Some  one 
hurried  past,  with  firm,  heavy  step.  A  voice  from 
way  forward  called  out,  '  Turn  on  the  deck-lights ! ' 

"  The  order  was  obeyed  and  we  caught  the  reflection 
of  the  rising  glow  of  the  electric  lamps  outside  as  the 
current  poured  into  them.  Then  a  figure  appeared  in 
the  open  doorway,  —  the  immaculate,  calm  figure  of 
Captain  Myers.  We  heaved  ourselves  toward  him, 
shouting. 

"  But  he  paid  no  attention  to  us.  His  crisp  tones 
cut  over  our  heads.  '  Mr.  Hampstead ! ' 

"  We  surged  back,  peering  over  our  shoulders.  We 
saw  the  old  missionary  rise  from  his  seat  far  back  in 
the  saloon  and  set  down  a  little  girl  from  his  arms. 
He  walked  forward  quietly  and  looked  up  at  the  cap 
tain.  ( I  am  here/  he  said  simply. 

"  '  The  purser  and  the  chief  officer  have  been  killed/ 
said  Myers  quietly.  '  I  rely  on  you  to  look  after  the 
passengers.  The  steward  will  report  to  you.  Please 
allow  nobody  on  deck.'  And  after  a  cool  stare  at  us 
all  the  captain  stepped  back  and  disappeared. 


VOICE    OF    AUTHORITY      337 

"  I  wish  I  could  narrate  the  small  events  of  the 
night,  but  I  can  only  state  that  the  old  missionary  took 
command  with  a  definiteness,  a  sureness,  a  silent  im- 
periousness  that  balked  any  opposition.  He  herded  us 
to  our  cabins,  listened  to  the  complaints  of  women, 
soothed  with  crooked  hands  weeping  children,  within 
an  hour  had  cleared  the  saloon  and  was  sitting  placidly 
beside  the  steward,  reading  his  Bible  through  large, 
iron-rimmed  spectacles,  while  the  Chinese  boys  slipped 
around  cleaning  up  the  mess  of  dirt,  torn  clothes,  and 
shredded  matting  that  marked  the  tumult  and  conflict 
of  the  mutiny.  ISTow  and  again  Hampstead  would  cease 
reading  and  enunciate  a  Chinese  sentence  in  a  harsh, 
nasal  voice.  Each  time  the  boys  would  gather  quickly 
and  then  separate  on  their  varied  errands. 

"  In  the  morning  we  learned  something  of  what  had 
really  happened.  We  saw  splintered  wood-work  about 
the  decks,  strange,  bluish  splotches  on  the  white  planks, 
an  uneasy  and  shamefaced  alacrity  in  the  movements 
of  the  crew.  In  the  shadow  of  the  bridge  four  bodies 
lay  under  a  tarpaulin,  and  we  understood  that  the  chief 
officer,  the  purser  and  two  engineers  lay  there  awaiting 
burial.  They  had  been  on  the  captain's  side.  There 
were  whispers  that  a  dozen  bodies  had  been  thrown 
overside  during  the  night,  that  down  in  the  recesses 
of  the  ship  mutineers  were  dying  of  their  wounds.  But 
no  one  spoke  openly  of  all  this.  We  were  left  to  sur 
mise,  to  innuendo,  to  glances. 

"  At  noon  Hampstead  buried  the  four  faithful  offi 
cers,  praying  fervently  over  them  for  the  rest  of  us. 


338    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Myers  stood  on  the  lower  bridge,  vigilant,  spotless  in 
garb,  apparently  undisturbed.  And  when  the  short 
ceremony  was  over  we  went  down  to  luncheon. 

"  The  days  after  this  are,  to  my  remembrance,  dream 
like.  I  observe  Hampstead  austerely  vigilant,  fulfill 
ing  his  duties  without  ardor  or  word  of  mouth.  I 
recall  that  our  food  gave  out  slowly,  having  been  sadly 
wasted  by  the  mutineers.  We  came  to  the  day  when 
we  had  no  fresh  milk,  the  cows  having  gone  dry. 
Babies  suffered.  We  had  no  meat.  Curry  powder 
failed.  We  were  on  an  allowance  of  water,  supplied 
by  the  condensers.  The  dark  winter  of  the  North 
Pacific  settled  down  on  us.  We  read  much,  sitting  in 
the  saloon  and  warming  ourselves  over  the  steam  coils. 

"  But  we  had  one  satisfaction.  High  winds  had  been 
availed  of  to  drive  the  Parthia  into  the  great  Japanese 
current  which  flows  in  a  huge  arc  from  the  coast  of 
Asia  to  the  northern  coast  of  America.  The  chart 
showed  steady  progress  eastward,  of  fifty  miles  one 
day,  of  one  hundred  miles  another  day.  The  sails  were 
filled  with  sleety  winds.  The  ship  wallowed  along  on 
a  course.  In  time  we  would  gain  a  port. 

"  As  the  horrors  of  the  mutiny  faded,  we  slowly 
picked  up  spirit  enough  to  enter  into  certain  pale 
amusements.  We  sang  at  night  over  the  saloon  piano. 
We  gave  a  concert  to  the  second  cabin  and  that  dark 
part  of  the  ship  blazed  with  lights  in  honor  of  a  grand 
reception  to  the  first  cabin.  But,  after  all,  our  prin 
cipal  interest  was  in  Jonas  Hampstead's  nightly 
prayers.  In  taking  charge  of  the  passengers  at  the 


VOICE    OF    AUTHORITY      339 

captain's  orders,  he  had  taken  over  the  cure  of  our 
souls  as  well.  He  was  instant  in  season  and  out  of 
season.  He  said  grace  at  meals.  He  prayed  over  the 
sick  children.  He  labored  earnestly  with  the  doubt 
ing.  He  preached  fervently  to  the  sinners. 

"  Never  did  ship  drift  across  the  foggy,  gloomy 
Pacific  under  such  circumstances  as  did  the  old  Parthia. 
From  daylight  till  midnight  we  were  under  the  spell 
of  the  old  missionary's  zeal.  True,  he  preached  an 
outworn,  neglected  doctrine,  a  harsh  and  forbidding 
creed.  But  he  believed  it.  Somehow  we  perceived  that 
his  strength  flowed  from  it.  He  thundered  out  against 
all  sin,  making  no  distinction  between  the  venial  and 
the  mortal.  He  held  before  us  the  prospect  of  hell- 
fire.  He  adjured  us  in  the  name  of  an  angry  and 
jealous  God  to  come  to  the  Mercy-Seat.  He  mocked 
our  worldly  hopes.  He  refused  to  listen  to  our  argu 
ments.  And  with  it  all  he  offered  us  no  sure  salvation, 
but  left  us  to  face  eternal  condemnation  should  our 
election  not  be  made  sure  by  Divine  Grace.  I  suppose 
that  he  taught  us  the  sternest  dogma  of  a  stern  sect. 
But  in  those  shadowy,  murky  days  the  religion  he 
lived  appealed  to  us.  It  was  strong  meat,  but  we  needed 
it.  Driving  about  on  a  stormy  sea,  with  little  real 
hope  of  living  to  set  foot  on  land,  we  faced  with 
equanimity  the  prospect  that  we  could  not  appease  by 
any  sacrifice  a  righteously  wrathful  Deity.  We  gained 
(but  transiently,  I  fear)  a  glimpse  of  that  enduring 
hardihood  that  smiles  at  God  even  when  He  smites. 

"  I  fear  I  weary  you.     So  I  pass  on,  merely  saying 


340    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

that  during  those  miserable,  half-starved  weeks  we  bent 
to  the  will  of  two  men:  the  immaculately  dressed, 
steady-eyed  captain,  always  vigilant,  taciturn  and  ready, 
and  the  gaunt,  crooked-handed  missionary  with  his 
fiery  spirit  and  ceaseless  importunity  to  mend  our 
wicked  ways. 

"  On  the  second  of  December,  the  Parthia  then  rid 
ing  out  the  end  of  a  severe  gale  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  Captain  Myers  stepped  inside  the  saloon 
door  and  said  quietly,  l  The  Armeria  of  Seattle  has 
answered  our  signals  and  will  tow  us  into  Puget  Sound.' 
On  the  seventeenth  of  that  month  the  Parthia  was 
slowly  warped  into  her  berth  in  Seattle  and  we  went 
ashore. 

"  But  I  have  still  something  to  tell.  Possibly  it 
explains  more  than  one  would  think.  At  least  I  like 
to  suppose  that,  at  the  very  last,  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  that  ultimate  strength,  that  ultimate  base  of  author 
ity  which  we  have  been  discussing  here  while  the  en 
gineers  plug  that  boiler  tube. 

"  We  had  entered  the  Sound,  and  two  large  tugs 
made  fast  on  either  quarter  of  the  Parthia.  A  booted 
and  waterproofed  pilot  lolled  on  the  bridge.  All 
through  the  steamer  we  were  packing  up  our  belong 
ings,  writing  letters,  chatting  excitedly  over  the  past. 
As  night  fell  I  walked  out  on  the  dripping  deck  and 
stared  at  the  misty  hills  of  Washington,  starred  here 
and  there  by  glowing  lights.  In  my  tramping  I  re- 
passed  Captain  Myers's  cabin  several  times,  and  my 
ear  caught  the  sound  of  Jonas  Hampstead's  voice. 


VOICE    OF    AUTHORITY      341 

When  I  had  made  the  round  of  the  deck  and  passed 
again  I  saw  through  the  partly  opened  shutter  the 
missionary  and  the  captain  facing  each  other.  I  heard 
the  captain  say,  in  a  curiously  modulated  voice,  l  There 
was  nothing  else  to  do.  If  I  did  not  kill  the  muti 
neers,  I  should  have  failed  in  my  duty.  But  I  am  a 
murderer  just  the  same.  I  have  lost  my  soul's 
salvation.' 

"  Blame  me  for  listening  if  you  will,  but  this  is 
what  I  overheard  Hampstead  answer,  in  a  harsh,  tin- 
tuneful  voice :  '  My  brother,  we  are  both  miserable  sin 
ners  and  unworthy  of  any  saving  grace.  Let  us  pray.' 
I  confess  that  I  stood  there,  opposite  that  partly  opened 
shutter,  and  looked  in  upon  the  two  old  men.  Myers, 
his  gray  head  bared  and  bowed,  listened  while  Hamp 
stead  raised  his  seamed  meager  visage  to  the  invisible 
sky  and  said  in  a  firm  voice :  '  0  Lord,  we  two  miserable 
sinners  stand  before  Thee  to-night  knowing  that  Thou 
hast  out  of  Thine  own  good  pleasure  chosen  some  to 
everlasting  life  and  joy  with  Thee  and  others  Thou 
hast  in  Thy  just  wrath  elected  to  eternal  destruction. 
We  are  blood  guilty,  for  the  burden  Thou  hast  laid 
upon  us  has  been  heavy.  We  beg  for  the  infinite  gift 
of  Thy  saving  grace.  But  we  know  that  Thou  art  a 
sure  foundation  for  our  faith  and  if  there  be  no  health 
in  us  and  Thou  hast  judged  us  unworthy  of  salvation, 
we  are  content.  But,  0  Gracious  Lord,  grant  us 
strength  to  save  others  to  Thy  honor  and  glory.  AmenS 

"  When  this  extraordinary  petition  had  been  offered 
there  ensued  a  silence.  It  was  broken  by  Captain 


342    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Myers.  He  said  quietly,  '  I  suppose  that  is  quite  right. 
I  must  answer  for  my  own  acts.  One  must  do  one's 
duty  without  reference  to  consequences  to  himself. 
After  all,  what  do  I  matter  —  compared  to  a  shipload 
of  people  ? '  He  opened  the  door  and  passed  out  with 
a  brisk,  assured,  authoritative  step.  As  the  door  closed 
after  him  I  saw  the  missionary  raise  an  agonized  face 
and  heard  him  mutter,  clasping  crooked  hand  in  crooked 
hand,  '  Lord,  Thy  will  be  done,  not  mine.'' 

"  You  understand,"  said  the  judge,  "  that  I  'm  not 
defending  their  theology.  I  am  only  stating  the  fact: 
those  two  old  men  saved  three  hundred  lives  by  virtue 
of  their  belief  and  reliance  in  an  impregnable  and  un 
swerving  authority.  After  all,  if  we  are  to  do  any 
thing  quite  worth  while,  we  have  to  believe  in  —  well  ? 
—  possibly  even  in  our  own  damnation."  He  was 
silent,  and  from  the  deck  we  heard  a  woman's  rapid 
wail,  "  Captain,  if  anything  should  happen,  remember 
I  have  my  baby !  " 

The  captain  of  the  Gaelic's  quiet  tones  reached  us. 
"  That  relieves  my  mind  of  much  responsibility.  I  shall 
entrust  the  baby  to  you.  I  know  you  will  look  out  for 
it.  We  shall  be  going  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour."  The 
woman  passed  the  open  door  with  face  alight,  calling 
to  a  companion,  "  We  're  all  right !  The  captain  says 
we  're  going  to  start  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour !  " 

The  judge  nodded  his  head.  "  You  hear  it  ?  The 
voice  of  authority !  " 


THE   DOG 

"  LIFE  is  too  complex,"  he  insisted.  "  I  admit  that  I 
am  a  weak  sister,  that  I  Ve  reached  Part  II  of  what 
the  missionaries  call  a  Ruined  Existence.  But  then  — 
why  have  Ten  Commandments  ?  Let  the  strong  and 
eager  and  virtuous  observe  all  ten  —  or  a  dozen,  if  they 
are  able.  But  I  'm  not  equal  to  it.  I  could  easily 
keep  one  commandment,  and  I  might  keep  two.  But 
when  you  mix  things  up  beyond  that,  I  confess,  I  quit. 
If  life  were  simple,  as  your  American  poets  sing,  I 
should  be  among  Those  Present.  But  I  fail  to  solve 
the  problem  in  terms  of  x,  y,  and  z." 

The  speaker  stared  with  sunken  eyes  at  the  clean 
bank  clerk. 

"  Get  to  work !  "  was  the  eager  answer.  "  Mix  in 
with  the  good  folks  down  here  —  you  used  to  know 
'em  —  and  get  acquainted  with  some  of  the  nice  girls 
and  make  some  money.  Stop  drinking.  You  could 
do  it,  Reynolds.  Half  the  men  in  Honolulu  would 
be  glad  of  it." 

"  You  are  making  things  complex  again,"  Reynolds 
returned.  "  You  say,  l  Stop  drinking.'  Done !  But 
am  I  saved  ?  No.  I  Ve  got  to  do  that  and  then  mix 
in  with  nice  people  and  make  some  fine  girl  think  I 
am  all  right,  and  then  I  Ve  got  to  make  some  money, 


344    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

and  so  on,  and  so  on,  for  ever  and  ever.  Too  com 
plex.  I  can  do  something  simple,  but  I  'm  no  juggler. 
I  can't  keep  ten  commandments  and  six  social  must- 
nots  in  the  air  at  once.  Have  a  drink?  No?  Well, 
so  long !  " 

Archibald  Thomas  P.  Reynolds  finished  his  third 
"  dog's  nose,"  glanced  carelessly  at  the  morning's  Ad 
vertiser  and  walked  slowly  out  of  Cunha's  into  the 
bright  Honolulu  sunshine.  On  his  way  two  men  nodded 
coldly  and  a  third  took  pains  to  cut  him. 

In  King  Street  he  consulted  the  bulletin  boards, 
stared  in  the  shop-windows  and  conducted  himself  in 
offensively  as  a  man  of  leisure  for  two  hours.  He 
then  carelessly  strolled  up  to  a  cafe,  where  he  lunched 
on  whisky  and  crackers.  An  hour  later  he  was  trudg 
ing  slowly  down  Kalekaua  Road  to  the  beach,  under 
the  hot  afternoon  sun,  a  byword  and  a  scandal  to  all 
who  saw  him.  For  he  wavered  and  had  lost  his  hat. 
Oddly  enough,  this  was  Archibald  Thomas  P.  Rey- 
nolds's  last  appearance.  With  rambling  steps  and  star 
ing  eyes  he  passed  out  of  the  complexities  of  a  civi 
lization  which  he  could  not  appreciate  at  its  true  value 
into  that  simplicity  for  which  his  soul  yearned.  For 
one  hundred  yards  beyond  the  grass  hut  that  is  pointed 
out  to  tourists  as  the  residence  of  the  former  kings 
of  Hawaii  a  very  small  girl  clung  to  the  step  of  a 
carriage  and  screamed  shrilly  as  Reynolds  came  by. 

A  woman,  leaning  out  of  the  carriage,  jerked  at  her 
daughter's  arm  and  scolded  her  vigorously. 

"  Of    course    you    can't    take   the    dog,"    she    said. 


THE    DOG  345 

"  Hurry  and  get  in  with  me !  We  're  going  to  catch 
the  steamer  and  go  home !  " 

"  I  won't  leave  my  dog !  "  wailed  the  child,  kicking 
up  the  dust. 

"  Get  in,"  her  mother  commanded  wrathfully.  "  If 
you  don't,"  —  her  wary  eye  discerned  the  shameful 
figure  of  a  drunken  white  man  by  the  roadside,  —  "  if 
you  don't,  that  bad  man  will  get  you !  " 

The  girl  stared  interestedly  at  the  Bad  Man-.  Then, 
jerking  her  arm  from  her  mother's  grasp,  she  darted 
over  to  him.  At  her  heels  galloped  a  small,  wizened 
animal  with  a  string  around  its  black  neck. 

"  Please !  "  she  begged.  "  I  want  somebody  to  be 
good  to  my  dog !  " 

"  Is  this  your  dog  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Yes !  I  founded  him  myself !  And  nobody  is 
good  to  him !  Will  you  be  good  to  him  ? " 

Reynolds  straightened  up  and  looked  over  to  the 
lady  in  the  carriage. 

"  It  is  a  very  simple  matter,  madam,"  he  said  with 
an  air.  "  I  am  not  much  —  as  you  perceive.  But 
your  daughter  is  correct  in  her  judgment.  I  believe 
I  am  equal  to  being  good  to  a  dog.  It  is  a  simple 
matter." 

He  took  the  dirty  string  out  of  the  little  girl's  hand 
and  bowed  as  deeply  as  a  dizzy  head  would  allow 
him. 

"  I  '11  be  good  to  him,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  Now  run 
on  to  your  mother." 

The  child  seemed  satisfied  and  retreated,  backwards, 


346    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

with  loving  eyes  upon  htr  late  pet,  who,  to  do  him 
justice,  seemed  very  loth  to  be  left  behind. 

"  Be  very  good  to  him !  "  she  cried  in  farewell. 

"  Trust  me !  "  he  replied  gravely.  "  And  thank  you 
for  the  confidence !  " 

As  the  carriage  sped  on  he  looked  down  at  his  new 
charge.  The  dog,  a  miserable  mongrel,  sat  on  its 
haunches  and  looked  at  him,  blunt  ears  a-cock.  Then, 
as  Reynolds  resumed  his  slightly  erratic  course  down 
the  white  road,  it  fell  behind  resignedly. 

The  strange  pair  wandered  on  and  on,  past  bright 
villas,  through  laughing  crowds  of  tourists,  into  the 
spacious  shadows  of  Kapiolani  Park.  There,  under 
a  tree,  the  man  subsided  to  the  grass  and  fell  asleep. 
The  dog,  after  snapping  at  mosquitoes  without  suc 
cess,  howled  miserably.  Then  it  curled  itself  up  be 
tween  its  new  master's  feet. 

The  sun  dipped  into  the  ocean  and  the  shadows  in 
the  park  deepened.  The  electric  lights  along  the  trol 
ley  line  sparkled  out  on  the  poles  and  under  them  the 
gardeners  passed  homeward.  Out  on  the  beach  the 
shark,  threshing  in  its  concrete  tank  behind  the  aqua 
rium,  sipped  the  cool  water  flowing  in  with  the  rising 
tide  over  the  pool's  lip  and  relapsed  into  silence.  The 
crescent  moon,  swung  delicately  in  the  unfathomable 
sky,  threw  down  a  faint  radiance  and  roused  the  night- 
birds.  A  brushing  wing  awakened  the  man  and  he 
sat  up.  His  aching  eyes  saw  nothing.  His  parched 
throat  called  loudly  for  a  drink.  He  thrust  his  hand 
into  his  pocket,  and  was  rejoiced  to  find  a  coin.  He 


THE    DOG  347 

got  to  his  feet  to  start  off.  The  tug  of  a  string  on 
his  finger  stopped  him.  He  stared  down  at  the  dog. 

"  The  little  cur !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  And  she 
wanted  me  to  be  good  to  you!  Well,  that's  easy. 
Come  on !  " 

He  wrapped  the  string  afresh  around  his  finger,  and 
walked  away  towards  the  city. 

Just  as  he  emerged  from  the  park-  Reynolds  crossed 
the  road  to  a  small  shop  where  a  huge  Portuguese 
woman  dozed  among  bottles  of  soda-water  and  baskets 
of  fruit  and  provisions.  Extracting  his  solitary  coin, 
Reynolds  effected  the  purchase  of  some  ginger-ale  and 
a  piece  of  dried  fish.  With  these  in  hand  he  went 
back  into  the  park.  Under  the  shadows  he  emptied 
the  bottle  and  fed  the  fish  to  the  dog.  When  the  ani 
mal,  its  hunger  satisfied,  licked  its  lips  and  wagged 
its  crooked  tail,  he  addressed  it  solemnly. 

"  Now,  that  was  simple,  was  n't  it,  pup  ?  Life,  dog, 
is  very  complex.  But  one  can  always  be  good  to  a 
dog.  Now  run  along." 

He  unknotted  the  cord  from  round  its  throat  and  set 
it  loose. 

"  Run  along !  "  he  ordered. 

But  the  mongrel,  wagging  its  tail  again,  pursued  a 
centipede  under  a  root,  barked  at  a  rat  on  some  noc 
turnal  hunt,  and  returned  to  curl  up  between  the  man's 
knees. 

Reynolds  considered  this  at  length'.  Finally,  with 
out  disturbing  his  new  charge,  he  took  off  his  shoes, 
threw  his  socks  away,  tore  collar  and  cuffs  from  his 


348    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

shirt  and  thus  began  his  new  life.  They  slept  together, 
mongrel  and  man,  till  the  dawn  blazed  over  Palolo. 
Then  they  went  down  to  bathe  together. 

Two  months  later  the  manager  of  Bishop  &  Com 
pany,  bankers,  remarked  that  Archibald  Thomas  P. 
Reynolds  did  not  call  for  his  mail  any  more. 

"  He 's  dropped  out,"  said  the  manager,  thrusting 
the  few  letters  into  a  pigeonhole.  "  Poor  chap !  he 
was  of  little  account !  " 

"  Probably,"  was  the  reply.  "  Better  return  those 
letters  to  the  writers.  We  '11  never  see  him  again." 

And  thus  it  came  about  that  Archibald  T.  P.  Rey 
nolds  did  not  return  up  the  white  road  that  he  went 
down. 

Instead,  a  man  answering  to  the  general  title  of 
"  Jim "  was  living  in  a  hut  back  of  the  cable  land 
ing,  helping  the  assistant  superintendent,  who  had 
never  heard  of  Reynolds,  watch  the  safety  of  the  big, 
snaky  cable  that  plunged  out  over  the  reef  and  into 
the  depths  of  the  Pacific.  The  work  was  not  hard,  but 
it  meant  long  watches  at  night,  sometimes,  and  conse 
quent  consumption  of  much  tobacco.  At  these  epochs 
the  assistant  superintendent  railed  exceedingly  at  the 
miserable  cur  that  followed  Jim,  the  handy  man,  and 
refused  to  be  separated  from  him  even  for  a  minute. 
But  in  the  midst  of  his  objurgation  he  would  find 
Jim's  eyes  sharply  fixed  on  him. 

"  Anybody  can  be  decent  to  a  dog,"  said  that  ex 
traordinary  laborer. 

And  the  assistant  would  become  silent,  much  to  his 


THE    DOG  349 

own  amazement.  Latterly  he  got  to  bringing  the  dog 
lumps  of  sugar,  which  were  gratefully  accepted  and 
assured  double  service  from  the  animal's  master. 

One  night  the  assistant  kept  the  laborer  working  till 
early  morning  over  the  foundations  of  the  long  carrier- 
conduit  that  took  the  tender  cable  out  over  the  jagged 
reef.  The  trades  were  strong  and  chill.  When  the 
work  was  done,  the  superintendent  pulled  a  dollar  out 
of  his  pocket  and  laid  it  down  before  the  dog. 

"  Take  it  to  your  master  and  tell  him  to  get  a  drink 
for  himself  and  a  bone  for  you,"  he  said. 

Jim,  from  the  other  side  of  the  room,  nodded  his 
thanks. 

"  I  don't  drink,"  he  said  briefly. 

"  Anything  you  like,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  —  par 
don  me  —  what  are  you  doing  out  here,  if  you  don't 
drink  ?  Excuse  my  bluntness,  but  you  're  up  to  better 
things,  if  you  're  a  sober  man." 

Jim  stared  moodily  out  into  the  crisp  morning 
twilight. 

"  I  'm  doing  one  thing  at  a  time,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  Just  now  I  'm  trying  to  be  good  to  the  dog." 

At  daylight  Jim  considered  the  pup  for  some  time, 
as  they  enjoyed  their  breakfast  among  the  palms. 

"  We  've  got  a  dollar  that  we  don't  need,  and  while 
I  don't  usually  take  tips,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  you  've 
got  a  treat  coming.  Now  what  '11  it  be  ?  " 

The  dog  cocked  one  shapeless  ear  and  panted,  his 
red  tongue  quivering  out  of  his  jaws.  A  sudden 
thought  struck  his  master. 


350    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

"  By  jove !  "  he  said  loudly.  "  We  need  a  good 
swim,  both  of  us,  pup.  We  '11  go  down  to  the  sand 
beach  and  swim  with  the  rest  of  the  good  people. 
Come  on !  " 

The  walk  to  Waikiki  seemed  very  short.  Reynolds 
(or  Jim)  strode  along  barefooted,  active,  lean  and 
with  the  faint  glow  of  health  on  him.  Now  and  again 
he  glanced  curiously  in  upon  the  green  lawn  of  some 
villa,  or  drew  aside  as  an  early  picnicking  party  fled 
by  with  jesting  laughter.  When  he  emerged  into  the 
open  of  Waikiki  proper,  and  saw  the  Moana  Hotel,  and 
the  motors  chugging  outside,  and  heard  the  footfalls 
echoing  on  polished  floors  and  smelt  the  odors  of  cook 
ing,  the  perfume  of  wines  and  the  scent  of  cigars,  he 
stopped. 

"  I  don't  believe  we  '11  go  any  farther,  pup,"  he  said. 
"  This  business  has  got  to  be  kept  simple.  If  it  gets 
complex  and  tangled  up  and  mixed  with  various  com 
mandments,  you  '11  get  the  worst  of  it.  And  I  'm  not 
much,  pup.  It's  about  all  I  can  do  to  be  good  to  a 
dog!" 

As  for  the  animal  he  addressed,  after  turning  one 
inquiring  glance  back  on  his  master,  he  trotted  on. 
Reynolds,  gazing  after  him,  hesitated,  was  about  to 
whistle  a  recall,  started  on,  halted,  swore,  and  then 
continued  on  his  way. 

Several  people,  seeing  the  lines  of  perplexity  on  the 
lean,  healthy  face  of  the  barefooted  Jiaole,  glanced  at 
him  interestedly.  But  no  one  recognized  in  him  the 
man  who  had  once  been  prominent  in  Honolulu,  first 


THE    DOG  351 

as  a  young  business  man,  lastly  as  a  drunkard.  The 
dog  turned  in  under  a  big  gateway  bearing  the  sign 
"  Japanese  Inn." 

"  That  settles  it,"  Reynolds  remarked  weakly. 
"  They  '11  serve  me,  no  matter  how  many  bare  feet 
I  have." 

He  cursed  the  dog  and  his  own  failings.  He  quickly 
crossed  the  lawn,  avoided  the  main  entrance,  and  dived 
down  an  alleyway.  At  the  end  of  this  a  Japanese, 
dressed  in  white  apron  and  jacket,  received  him  smil 
ingly.  Half  an  hour  later  Reynolds  lolled  on  the  sea 
ward  lanai  of  the  inn,  glowing  with  liquor,  flushed 
with  new  dreams,  his  full,  handsome  face  set  on  the 
shining  ocean.  Now  and  then  he  replenished  his  glass 
out  of  the  bottle. 

"  I  'm  going  to  get  away,"  he  told  the  waiter.  "  Just 
you  wait!  Odd  how  a  good  drink  simplifies  matters, 
once  you  get  'em  straight  in  your  head !  I  'm  going 
back  home !  Decent  citizen !  and  all  that !  " 

The  tide  crept  in  from  the  blue  ocean,  flooded  the 
white  beach  and  covered  the  reefs,  and  at  the  same 
time  another  tide,  of  humanity,  flowed  slowly  down  from 
the  city  to  meet  it,  filling  up  the  hotels,  the  parks, 
thronging  the  roadways  with  men  and  women  drawn 
by  idleness,  curiosity,  thirst,  or  more  innocent  desires. 
In  a  secluded  part  of  the  lanai  Reynolds  finished  his 
bottle,  watching  the  pageant.  Now  and  again  he  stared 
round  him,  as  if  he  would  go  somewhere.  But  each 
time  he  relapsed  into  his  seat.  When  the  bottle  was 
empty  and  the  canoes  began  their  rides  over  the 


352    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

breakers,  and  the  surf  board-riders  yelled  and  laughed 
outside,  and  the  people  along  the  beach  hummed  like 
a  vast  swarming  of  bees,  he  suddenly  remembered  that 
he  had  come  for  a  swim.  It  was  true  that  he  might 
have  gone  swimming  down  by  the  cable  landing,  among 
the  rocks,  but  it  was  n't  safe  for  the  dog.  One  must 
look  out  for  the  dog.  Where  was  the  dog?  He  whis 
tled.  It  crept  out  from  under  a  bench,  and  together 
they  left  the  lanai  and  started  down  towards  the 
water. 

Heedless  of  his  clothes  —  for  how  could  a  wetting 
injure  them  ?  —  he  walked  into  the  warm  sea.  As 
he  made  his  slow  way  down  the  shelving  sand  and  the 
water  rose  to  his  knees,  to  his  waist,  to  his  shoulders, 
he  forgot  the  dog  in  the  pure  comfort  and  refreshment 
of  it.  He  looked  longingly  out.  He  had  often  swum 
to  the  reef  before.  It  would  be  just  the  thing  now. 
He  stretched  himself  out  gently  on  the  water. 

A  yelp  behind  recalled  to  him  his  charge.  He  turned 
and  saw  the  mongrel,  half  drowned,  plunging  towards 
him  with  pitiful,  straining  efforts.  He  reached  out, 
picked  it  up  and  set  it  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Poor  little  pup,"  he  said  commiseratingly.  "  You 
never  came  of  a  swimming  breed.  But  you  've  got 
pluck  all  right.  You  swam." 

He  scanned  the  expanse  between  him  and  the  shore. 
It  suddenly  came  over  him  how  far  the  dog  had  strug 
gled  before  he  heard  its  cry  and  heeded  it. 

"  By  jove !  "  he  said  admiringly.  "  You  certainly 
have  pluck,  pup !  " 


THE    DOG  353 

The  animal,  perilously  balanced  on  his  steadily  heav 
ing  shoulder,  licked  his  briny  cheek. 

On  a  pinnacle  of  coral  far  out  Reynolds  rested. 
About  him  the  long  rollers  of  the  Pacific  heaped  them 
selves  high,  shook  overhead  like  huge  billows  of  blue 
cloth,  and  swept  downward  in  crashes  of  foam  and 
spray.  Now  and  then  he  had  to  struggle  to  maintain 
his  position  on  the  bit  of  coral.  Each  time  he  recov 
ered  himself  in  the  broken  water  he  felt  the  dog's 
trembling  body  pressed  closer  to  him. 

A  wave  lifted  him  up  and  he  felt  the  cruel  scrape  of  a 
coral  branch  along  his  leg.  He  regained  his  perch  with 
difficulty,  rescuing  the  dog  with  a  sweep  of  his  arm  from 
the  swirling  brine.  It  struggled  up  in  his  arms  and 
licked  his  face.  He  suddenly  felt  sorry  for  it. 

"  You  swam  a  dickens  of  a  ways,"  he  muttered. 
"  You  saw  me  headed  this  way  and  you  just  came,  too." 

He  mused  on  this  a  long  time.  Then  he  felt  weak. 
A  dull  pain  made  itself  felt  in  his  leg. 

"  That  coral 's  poison,"  he  said.  "  And  we  must  get 
away  while  we  can." 

He  glanced  behind  him,  saw  his  chance  and  slipped 
down  into  the  water.  He  struck  out  for  shore  very 
slowly.  His  right  leg  was  stiff. 

What  seemed  to  him  interminable  hours  passed  re 
soundingly.  As  he  swam,  with  great  strokes,  buffeting 
the  waves  with  amazing  vigor  and  address,  but  making 
infinitesimal  progress,  he  continually  heard  the  shout  of 
surf-riders  behind  him,  rose  into  the  bosom  of  breakers 
and  was  suddenly  overwhelmed.  Each  time  he  came 


354    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

to  the  air  to  see  the  riders  flitting  towards  the  far  beach 
on  the  crest  of  the  wave  that  had  just  overpassed.  Once 
in  a  while  a  ponderous  canoe,  laden  with  shrieking  white 
women,  thundered  by,  careening  down  the  smooth  slope 
of  a  wave,  the  brown,  intent  faces  of  the  canoemen  fixed 
immovably  upon  the  distant  shore  towards  which  they 
sped.  Later  a  fishing  sampan,  rocking  wildly  in  the 
broken  water,  was  borne  slowly  by  him.  in  a  vast  smudge 
of  foam  and  spray. 

Gradually  the  blood  pelting  through  his  arteries 
slowed  up,  as  the  liquor  died  in  him.  Perspective  re 
turned.  Instead  of  swimming  forever  in  a  boundless 
sea,  he  was  thrashing  wildly  around  within  a  few  hun 
dred  feet  of  the  shallows.  And  behind  him  he  heard  a 
scream.  There  was  the  impact  of  some  heavy  flat 
object  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  a  raucous  call,  a 
bellow  of  rage,  of  command,  of  encouragement.  He 
turned  his  face  quickly  seaward. 

Caught  under  the  arch  of  a  wave  he  saw  a  small  canoe, 
its  bow  swung  up,  its  stem  tilted  downward.  With  great 
deliberation,  as  he  craned  his  neck  to  watch,  a  woman 
slipped  from  her  place  in  the  bow,  clutched  methodically 
at  the  thwarts  as  she  descended  and  plunged  into  the 
water  beneath  the  uphung  canoe.  The  wave  seemed  to 
tremble  forward,  to  totter.  Foam  suddenly  blossomed  on 
the  crest.  A  huge  kanaka,  poised  across  the  little  craft, 
bellowed  again,  driving  his  paddle  deep  into  the  wave. 

"  That  takes  a  long  time,"  mused  Reynolds.  "  The 
woman  will  likely  be  hit  by  the  canoe  and  she  will 
be  drowned." 


THE    DOG  355 

The  wave  broke.  Reynolds,  clutching  the  dog  to 
his  neck  with  one  hand,  thrust  the  arm  down  and  dived. 
He  felt  the  wrecked  canoe  wallow  overhead.  Something 
struck  his  leg,  his  right  leg,  too,  a  sharp,  painful  blow. 
He  emerged  to  face  the  kanaka  who  was  plunging 
around  looking  for  his  passenger.  A  second  canoeman, 
spilled  some  moments  before,  swam  a  hundred  yards 
away.  Before  his  eyes  the  woman  reappeared,  rolling 
slowly  to  the  surface.  The  native,  grasping  her,  started 
for  the  beach  with  great,  swift  movements,  raising  the 
water  before  his  breast  in  a  girdle  of  foam,  traversing 
the  long  swells  with  frantic  and  incredible  speed.  From 
the  sea  a  second  canoe  swept  in,  its  crew  shouting 
terribly,  beating  the  water  with  their  paddles.  Reynolds 
exhaled  his  breath  with  a  long  "  A-ah !  "  He  understood. 
A  shark  had  crossed  the  reef  and  was  hunting.  This  was 
what  had  demoralized  the  men  in  the  wrecked  canoe,  the 
source  of  the  terror  in  the  oncoming  craft. 

A  second  wave  slopped  the  broken  canoe  directly 
across  Reynolds's  path.  Something  underneath  a  thwart 
caught  his  eye.  He  reached  out  his  hand  and  took 
hold  of  the  side.  He  looked  in.  A  little  girl's  upturned, 
white  face  met  his  glance.  He  pondered  quickly.  It 
was  a  hopeless  undertaking  to  try  to  take  the  canoe  in. 
The  girl  lay  in  water  that  washed  over  her  lips  and  swept 
her  hair  round  her  throat.  Any  moment  another  wave 
might  turn  it  all  upside  down.  And  there  was  the  shark 
—  somewhere.  He  drove  his  feet  down,  thrust  his  arms 
in  and  drew  the  child  out.  The  canoe  was  flung  far  from 
him  by  the  rush  of  a  surge.  But  he  had  the  girl  safely 
in  his  grasp. 


Dazed,  lie  started  slowly  to  swim  on  toward  shore. 
He  made  a  few  strokes  and  his  limbs  failed  him.  By 
himself  he  could  with  difficulty  make  the  distance. 
Burdened  with  the  child,  it  was  impossible.  His  eyes 
darkened.  His  lips  sucked  in  brine.  He  was  perishing. 
But  his  dulled  ear  caught  a  sharp,  imperative,  pitiful 
sound  behind  him.  It  was  the  yelp  of  his  abandoned 
dog.  It  was  swimming  alone.  With  infinite  pains  he 
turned  and  saw  it,  perceived  dimly  the  pleading  eyes, 
the  upturned  muzzle,  the  blunt  ears.  Shifting  the  child 
slightly,  he  thrust  out  stiff  fingers  to  save  the  dog.  The 
animal  puffed  and  struggled.  It  yelped  again.  It 
choked.  And  beyond  them  he  saw  the  swiftly  rising 
crest  of  another  breaker.  The  child  in  his  arms  sud 
denly  struggled,  too. 

In  that  instant  he  saw  the  faithfulness  of  the  dog. 
It  had  followed  him.  It  had  asked  neither  reason  nor 
cause.  It  had  simply  followed  him.  It  had  trusted 
him.  In  his  arms  he  clutched  a  child.  Something 
familiar  in  the  girl's  face  moved  him,  how  he  did  not 
know.  The  thought  came  to  him  that  she  might,  at 
some  time,  have  wished  that  people  would  be  good  to 
a  dog.  Bitterly,  quickly  he  made  his  decision.  With 
a  huge  intaking  of  breath,  he  dived,  without  one  look 
behind  him,  without  a  sound  to  signify  that  he  Heard 
a  feeble  yelp  as  the  breaker  engulfed  the  floundering 
mongrel. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  strode  out  of  the  water  and  up 
the  beach  to  a  woman  who  sat  shrieking  for  her  child. 
At  sight  of  him  she  rose  and  threw  herself  forward. 


THE    DOG  357 

Men  crowded  around,  with  orders,  with  commands,  with 
warning. 

In  the  midst  of  this  clamor  he  stood,  holding  the 
child.  His  wet  clothes  dripped.  At  his  feet  gathered 
a  dark  pool  of  blood. 

Somebody  stepped  up  and  took  the  little  girl  from 
him,  calling  out  loudly,  "  She 's  alive !  She 's  all 
right!" 

Another  man,  staring  keenly  at  Reynolds,  touched 
him  on  the  arm. 

"The  shark!"  he  said. 

Reynolds  shook  him  off.  Without  a  word  to  the 
astonished  people  huddled  circlewise  round  him  he 
turned  and  strode  back  towards  the  sea.  They  called 
to  him.  A  man,  waving  his  arms  menacingly,  ran 
toward  him.  He  shook  his  head.  Gathering  his  strength 
he  plunged  into  the  water,  hastened  out  into  it  till  it 
rose  to  his  waist,  to  his  shoulders.  Then,  with  a  sigh,  he 
yielded  himself  to  it,  swimming  seaward  wearily,  out 
towards  the  crashing  breakers,  to  the  place  where  he  had 
heard  that  last  piteous  yelp  of  his  dog. 

"  It 's  so  simple,"  he  mused.  "  Anybody  can  do  that. 
Just  —  "  his  calm  face  grew  peaceful,  as  the  warm  tide 
flowed  over  it  —  "  just  be  good  to  the  dog !  " 

And  with  this  solitary  and  ridiculous  substitute  for 
a  morality  too  high  for  him,  Archibald  Thomas  P. 
Reynolds  swam  on  —  and  on  —  out  of  that  sea  into  an 
other,  seeking  a  black,  blunt-eared,  clumsy  mongrel  — 
a  cur. 


A   PERIODICAL    PROSELYTE 

Oh,  art  thou  fool  or  madman  ? 

Thy  port  is  but  a  dream, 
And  never  on  the  horizon's  rim 

Will  its  fair  turrets  gleam. 

—  Sealed  Orders. 

HE  maintained  that  pure  religion  was  to  be  found  only 
in  San  Francisco.  "  The  export  article  they  have  here 
in  Honolulu,"  he  said,  "  may  be  all  right  for  the  kana 
kas  and  paTces.  But  it  don't  bite  in  on  a  white  man 
like  the  genuine,  domestic,  Peniel  Mission,  Kearney 
Street,  brand.  I  admit  I  Ve  been  poopooli  [crazy]  from 
gin  for  three  months.  It 's  because  the  religion  down 
here  has  n't  got  any  real  hold.  You  just  get  me  an 
order  on  the  transports  to  San  Francisco  and  give  me 
the  ten  dollars  I  need  to  pay  my  meals,  and  I  can  get 
saved  right.  Look  at  that  time  in  '99 ;  was  n't  I  on 
the  beach,  then  ?  And  I  went  to  'Frisco  and  the  Peniel 
people  took  me  and  converted  me  and  I  quit  liquor  and 
was  decent  for  a  year  —  till  I  came  to  Papeete  and 
these  parts  where  religion  is  thin." 

The  man  he  addressed  shook  his  head.  "  Nothing 
for  you,  Jim,"  he  said.  "  The  Coast  article  may  be 
a  bit  stronger  than  we  have  down  here ;  but  you  're  too 
far  gone  this  time.  You  have  taken  your  pitcher  too 


PERIODICAL    PROSELYTE    359 

often  to  the  well.  You  are  n't  worth  saving  any  more. 
Clear  out!" 

So  James  Hughes,  formerly  respectable  but  now  va- 
grantj  staggered '  out  of  the  cool  office  into  the  hot 
street,  his  dirty  linen  trousers  flapping  about  his  bare 
ankles.  He  attempted  jauntiness  of  demeanor,  but  some 
tourists,  ex  steamship  China,  drew  aside  at  his  passing 
with  expressions  of  disgust.  Farther  on  a  Chinese  hack 
driver,  lolling  in  his  vehicle,  scoffed  loudly  at  the 
drunken  haole.  The  offcast  tried  to  assume  dignity 
enough  to  resent  such  familiarity,  but  his  failure  was 
evident  to  himself  and  he  rolled  round  the  next  corner 
holding  a  shaking  hand  over  his  face. 

He  passed  along  King  Street  in  such  manner  as  he 
could,  swaying  amid  the  scornful  crowd,  till  a  turn  in 
the  road  brought  him  into  the  Japanese  quarter.  Here 
no  one  paid  him  any  attention.  But  he  refused  the 
silent  invitation  of  the  saloons  and  kept  on  till  he  reached 
Iwilei,  hot,  desolate,  and  foul,  but  free  from  the  sur 
veillance  of  the  police.  Once  within  this  asylum  of 
wretchedness  he  threw  out  his  chest  and  strode  boldly 
up  an  alley. 

He  stopped  in  front  of  a  little  hovel.  A  child  cried 
shrilly  within,  its  plaint  rising,  a  thin  note  above  the 
hum  of  the  quarter.  The  vagrant  listened,  nodding 
his  unkempt  head.  "  That 's  Yohara's  kid,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  And  I  forgot  the  candy." 

He  felt  in  all  his  pockets  for  the  coin  he  had  spent 
in  a  Kakaako  bar.  "  Poor  little  kiddie,"  he  muttered, 
when  his  searching  fingers  failed  to  find  anything. 


360    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Then,  as  an  after-thought,  he  added,  "  Poor  Jim 
Hughes!" 

At  this  instant  a  tall,  angularly  built  man  in  decent 
clothes,  wearing  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  came  out  of  the 
hut,  almost  bumping  into  Hughes.  They  suddenly 
eyed  each  other,  blinking  in  the  torrid  sunshine.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  No  offence,"  Hughes  answered,  rubbing  his  un 
shaven  face.  "  My  fault  entirely.  Did  n't  expect  to 
see  a  white  man  here." 

"  I  'm  Rapp,"  the  other  responded  to  this  suggestion. 
"  I  have  a  school  in  Palama  and  the  little  boy  here  was 
going  to  it.  But  he 's  not  well,  and  my  wife  sent  him 
home  to-day." 

"  You  're  the  new  missionary  ?  "  Hughes  demanded. 

Embarrassment  was  plain  on  Mr.  Rapp's  face.  He 
swept  off  his  big  felt  hat  with  an  easy  gesture  and  seemed 
to  interrogate  the  glaring  heavens.  "  I  don't  know  that 
I  'm  much  of  a  missionary,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  I  'm 
only  a  teacher  —  Social  Settlement,  you  know." 

"  Anything  like  Peniel  Mission  ?  "  Hughes  removed 
his  own  tattered  hat  with  a  faint  insinuation  of  mutual 
courtesy. 

"  Not  exactly,"  Mr.  Rapp  answered.  "  I  don't 
believe  I  know  just  who  the  Peniel  missionaries 


are. 
u 


They  're  the  real  article,"  Hughes  asserted,  stand 
ing  more  erect.  "  They  work  in  San  Francisco.  I  was 
converted  by  them  several  times.  Their  religion  is  the 
only  thing  for  a  man  that 's  got  many  bad  habits,  like 


PERIODICAL    PROSELYTE    361 

me.  Now  I  was  thinking  that  if  you  were  a  Peniel 
man,  it  might  save  me  a  trip  to  San  Francisco." 

The  Settlement  worker  looked  somewhat  mystified. 
The  man  before  him  showed  every  sign  of  degradation. 
They  were  in  a  quarter  of  Honolulu  shunned  even  by 
the  police.  He  had  just  come  out  of  a  hovel  where 
disease  rioted,  into  a  street  where  vice  reigned.  And 
a  white  man,  shaking  from  excesses,  was  looking  at  him 
with  appealing  eyes  and  affirming  that  a  sect  he  had 
never  heard  of  were  the  bearers  of  the  only  true  gospel. 
Lacking  words,  he  nodded.  His  companion  nodded  back, 
as  if  he  quite  understood,  and  went  on :  "I  was  just 
trying  to  make  arrangements  to  get  back  to  the  Coast 
a  little  while.  I  need  a  turn  in  Peniel.  Somehow  the 
religion  down  here  is  n't  strong  enough  for  my  case.  It 's 
all  right  for  the  natives  and  people  that  don't  have  much 
to  fight  against.  But  a  man  like  me  needs  a  good  strong 
doctrine  to  hold  him  up."  He  glanced  at  Rapp,  humbly. 
"  I  'm  sort  of  a  weak  sister,  you  see.  Now  in  San 
Francisco  I  'm  all  right.  The  Peniel  people  get  me  and 
I  say  to  myself,  '  Jim,  this  time  's  the  time  the  Lord 
has  got  you  by  the  ear,  sure.  You  can't  get  lost  again.' 
Then  I  come  back  to  Papeete  or  Honolulu.  I  'm  all  to 
the  good  for  a  month,  maybe.  I  live  among  the  good 
people  and  work  hard  and  save  my  money.  Then  the 
religion  gets  sort  of  thinned  out,  and  by  and  by  I 
take  to  gin,  not  being  able  to  find  anything  in  the  way 
of  doctrine,  and  I  land  here  in  Iwilei." 

"  Why  don't  you  keep  going  to  church,  and  keep  up 
your  good  works  ? "  Mr.  Rapp  demanded. 


Hughes  put  on  his  hat  again.  "  I  tried  it,"  he 
said,  "  but  the  religion  here  don't  bite ;  honestly,  it 
don't.  I  'm  used  to  strong  liquor  and  I  want  strong 
doctrine.  Anyway,"  he  added,  somberly,  "  the  mission 
aries  don't  want  me  around.  They  all  know  Jim 
Hughes  —  drunken  Jim,  they  call  me.  But  I  advise 
you,  if  the  missionaries  get  down  on  you  and  you  find 
you  're  weak  on  practice  and  shaky  on  doctrine,  to  hunt 
up  the  Peniel  people  in  San  Francisco.  I  'm  going 
back  there  myself  to  get  saved.  Seven  times  they 
plucked  me  from  the  burning.  All  I  need  is  the  price  to 
pay  my  passage.  You  haven't  ten  dollars,  have  you? 
I  '11  pay  you  back  just  as  soon  as  I  get  saved  and  find 
a  job  again." 

Mr.  Rapp's  interest  turned  to  disgust.  The  man  was 
begging.  He  would  have  started  away,  except  that  a 
sense  of  his  duty  made  him  pause  to  say :  "  Look  Here, 
I  'm  in  no  position  to  give  you  money.  If  I  did,  you  'd 
spend  it  for  drink.  Why  don't  you  brace  up  and  live 
like  a  white  man?  Quit  this  life  and  be  decent. 
You  really  look  as  though  you  might  have  been  a  man, 
once." 

The  thin  wail  of  the  child  rose  into  the  afternoon 
air  and  Hughes  shambled  into  the  hut.  As  he  passed 
the  Settlement  worker  he  shook  his  head.  "  Nothing 
does  me  any  good  except  Peniel  Mission.  I  've  tried  all 
the  other  brands.  I  ought  to  know.  Ain't  I  the  one 
that  needs  salvation  ?  " 

He  disappeared  into  the  interior,  and  Rapp,  picking 
his  way  down  the  filthy  alley,  heard  the  wail  turn  to 


PERIODICAL    PROSELYTE    363 

a  feeble  cry  of  joy.  "  I  wonder,"  he  mused,  "  whether 
that  is  the  brute's  child  ? " 

The  same  question  occurred  to  him  the  next  day 
when  he  visited  the  hut  in  Iwilei  and  found  Yohara 
bending  over  a  very  sick  child,  indeed.  When  he  had 
done  what  little  he  could  to  ease  its  pain,  Mr.  Rapp 
determined  to  decide  the  question.  "  You  remember 
one  man  very  drunk  yesterday?  Haole? " 

Yohara  seemed  at  a  loss  for  a  moment.  Rapp  sud 
denly  remembered  the  name  the  man  had  given  himself. 
"  Hughes  ?  Hughes  ?  "  he  added. 

The  woman  smiled  instantly.  "  He  bring  my  baby 
candy." 

"  He  your  husband,  you  aiJcane  ?  "  he  continued. 

She  shook  her  head  vigorously.  "  Aole,  aole  me 
aikane.  Me  aikane  pake." 

"  But  he  give  your  baby  candy,"  he  persisted. 

The  Japanese  woman  smiled.  "  He  poopooli " 
(crazy),  she  said  curtly. 

The  next  day  and  the  next,  Mr.  Rapp  came  to  visit 
the  child,  now  dying  in  the  stifling  heat  of  the  foul 
alley.  But  it  was  not  till  a  week  later  that  he  met 
Hughes  again.  This  time  the  vagrant  was  sober.  He 
was  bending  over  the  fretful  child  when  Rapp  entered. 
He  straightened  up  and  silently  stood  to  one  side  while 
the  child  was  examined. 

"  How  's  the  kid  ?  "  he  ventured  at  last. 

"  Not  going  to  last  much  longer,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  Hughes  demanded. 

"  Everything  —  principally  poor  food  and  bad  air. 


I  'd  bring  milk  myself,  only  this  woman  would  let  it 
get  warm  and  it  would  be  worse  than  none  at  all  in 
side  of  an  hour.  I  've  tried  to  persuade  her  to  take 
the  child  somewhere  else.  But  she  don't  seem  to 
understand." 

Hughes  bent  his  head  over  the  little  mat  a  moment. 
"  Poor  little  kid !  "  he  muttered.  When  he  straightened 
up,  the  Settlement  worker  observed  that  the  slack  lips 
were  quivering;  he  did  not  notice  that  round  one  finger 
was  clutched  a  feeble  baby's  hand.  "  I  '11  ask  the  Jap 
what 's  the  matter,"  Hughes  mumbled,  not  moving  in 
his  tracks,  feeling  that  faint  tug  on  his  hand.  He  broke 
out  into  speech  that  Rapp  could  not  follow,  so  mingled 
was  it  of  three  languages. 

The  woman  listened  sullenly.  Then  she  spread  out 
her  empty  hands  in  a  gesture  eloquent  of  poverty. 
"  She  has  no  money,"  Hughes  interpreted.  "  Her  hus 
band,  who  is  a  Chinese  luna  [overseer]  on  Kauai,  sends 
her  no  money.  She  is  afraid." 

"  I  can't  make  these  people  out,"  Rapp  said,  angrily. 
"  That  kid  would  have  a  chance  to  get  well  anywhere 
but  here.  '  I  've  done  what  I  could.  It  '11  just  have  to 
die."  He  took  his  hat  and  left. 

When  he  had  gone,  the  woman  went  and  sat  in  the 
doorway  while  Hughes  lifted  the  frail  child  into  his 
arms  and  soothed  its  fretfulness  by  grotesque  grimaces 
and  snatches  of  song.  When  it  was  stilled  he  carried 
it  out  into  the  scant  shade  of  the  hut  and  sat  down  to 
fight  out  his  battle. 

The  woman  paid  no  attention  to  the  haole  when  his 


PERIODICAL    PROSELYTE    365 

voice  rose  in  soliloquy.  He  was  poopooli.  He  would 
not  hurt  the  child.  "  Poor  little  kiddie,"  the  outcast 
was  saying.  "  Chink  father  and  Jap  mother.  No 
chance  at  all.  Going  make  [dead]  because  there  's  no 
one  cares."  He  repeated  this  last  sentence  and  fell 
silent.  When  the  child  stirred  and  its  clawlike  hand 
reached  up  and  touched  his  bare  throat  he  said  again, 
"  Going  make  because  no  one  cares." 

The  woman  fell  asleep,  her  head  on  her  breast,  and 
Hughes  shook  his  head.  "  Poor  little  kiddie,"  he  whis 
pered.  "  And  ten  dollars  will  do  it.  But  I  've  got 
to  go  to  the  Coast  and  get  saved.  It  '11  take  that  ten 
dollars.  If  I  don't  go,  I  '11  never  straighten  up  and 
I  '11  go  make,  too,  here  in  Iwilei  where  nobody  cares." 

The  day-mosquitoes  stole  in  upon  his  emaciated  body, 
and  he  took  off  his  hat  and  slapped  at  them.  The  child 
wakened  and  cried  again,  twisting  till  its  hot  cheek 
rested  on  Hughes'  breast.  His  face  suddenly  whit 
ened.  His  weak  mouth  drew  into  firmer  lines  and  he 
painfully  got  upon  his  feet.  Thrusting  past  the  drows 
ing  woman  he  entered  the  Hut  and  laid  the  child  upon 
its  mat  and  drew  a  torn  piece  of  netting  over  it.  "  It 's 
got  to  be  done,"  he  muttered. 

King  Street  was  crowded.  Gaily  decked  native 
women  pushed  their  way  along  in  front  of  the  shops, 
chattering  and  laughing.  Heavily  laden  coolies  trotted 
through  the  midstreet,  swinging  their  baskets  from 
under  the  noses  of  the  panting  hack  horses.  Japanese 
women,  hauling  bedizened  children  by  the  hand,  called 
to  each  other  across  the  stream  of  traffic.  Here  and 


366    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

there  a  mounted  policeman  rode  above  the  current, 
debonair,  careless,  dominant.  Occasionally  linen-clad 
white  men  lounged  by  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall,  red- 
faced,  complaining  of  the  mid-afternoon  heat.  At  in 
tervals  a  crowded  street  car  clanged  on  its  hurried  way 
to  Kalihi  or  Waikiki. 

Hughes  noted  nothing  of  this.  He  was  walking  as 
fast  as  he  could,  careless  where  his  bare  feet  stepped. 
A  withered  garland  depended  from  his  tattered  hat. 
His  torn  jacket  flapped  behind  him,  snatched  at  by 
coarse  flower  sellers,  almost  plucked  from  his  body  by 
impudent  children. 

He  won  out  of  the  crowd  and  down  the  alley  that 
leads  to  the  post  office.  A  few  steps  more  brought  him 
to  a  bank.  Without  pause  he  stepped  in  and  went 
down  the  big  room,  past  the  cages  wherein  clerks  worked 
over  books,  to  a  far  window.  He  tapped  on  the  counter 
and  a  man  at  a  desk  inside  looked  up  with  a  frown. 
"What  is  it,  Hughes?"  he  said.  "The  transport 
does  n't  sail  till  next  week." 

"  I  know  that,"  Hughes  answered,  "  but  I  need  the 
ten  dollars  you  promised  me  to-day.  I  thought  maybe 
if  I  did  n't  bother  you  any  more,  you  'd  be  glad  to  be 
rid  of  me,  Mr.  Haskins." 

"  I  certainly  would  be  glad  to  be  relieved  of  your 
constant  pestering,"  was  the  response.  "  But  you  've 
always  said  you  could  straighten  up  if  you  went  to  the 
Coast.  I  told  you  I  'd  give  you  the  money  to  go. 
Now  you  take  advantage  of  my  good  nature  and  try 
to  work  me  for  it  now.  If  I  give  it  to  you,  it  means 


that  you  '11  go  and  get  drunk  again.  Don't  you  want 
to  be  decent  ?  " 

Hughes'  face  darkened.  "  I  never  lied  to  you,  did 
I  ? "  he  demanded. 

"  ]N"o-o,"  Haskins  admitted. 

"  Well,  I  'm  not  lying  now.  I  need  that  money 
worse  to-day  than  I  will  next  week.  I  '11  never  bother 
you  again  if  you  '11  let  me  have  it  now." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  banker,  "  here 's  your  tenner. 
But  don't  come  in  here  any  more." 

Once  on  the  street  Hughes  started  back  the  way  he 
had  come.  But  his  feet  lagged.  Time  and  again  he 
stopped  to  gaze  out  over  the  many-tinted  bay.  "  I 
could  make  it  all  right,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  And  the 
Peniel  people  would  straighten  me  out,  and  I  could 
quit  the  beach  and  be  somebody.  But  I  guess  I  've 
had  my  last  chance.  We  '11  just  give  somebody  else  a 
show." 

Two  hours  later  the  woman  Yohara  was  seated  under 
the  awning  on  the  forward  deck  of  the  inter-island 
steamer  Caroline,  a  little  bundle  of  her  belongings  at 
her  feet  and  the  child  on  her  lap.  As  the  last  whistle 
blew  Hughes  shambled  to  her  side  and  thrust  a  package 
into  her  hands.  "  Candy,"  he  mumbled.  The  mate 
bellowed  at  him  and  he  hastened  away.  The  woman 
drew  her  gown  closer  about  her  and  then  looked  down 
at  the  child.  "  Poopooli,"  she  murmured. 

When  the  Caroline  had  fussed  out  of  her  slip  and 
passed  down  the  gleaming  bay  toward  the  tossing  pass, 
Jim  Hughes  left  the  wharf  and  shambled  to  Iwilei. 


368    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

Once  safe  within  its  precincts  he  sought  a  cheap  saloon 
and  laid  down  his  solitary  quarter  on  the  bar. 

A  couple  of  nights  later  Mr.  Rapp  was  surprised 
to  see  the  outcast  walk  into  his  little  chapel  in  Palama 
where  he  and  his  wife  were  trying  to  teach  a  polyglot 
assembly  the  virtues  of  cleanliness  and  godliness. 
Hughes  listened  silently  to  the  reading  of  a  chapter 
from  the  Bible,  to  the  songs,  to  the  exhortations.  Be 
fore  the  services  ended  he  slipped  out  into  the  night. 

Thereafter  he  made  occasional  visits  to  the  chapel. 
Ragged  and  unkempt,  he  was  usually  sober.  Even 
when  drunk,  he  was  scrupulously  quiet  and  attentive. 
Finally  Mr.  Rapp  sought  him  out  alone.  "  You  ought 
to  straighten  up,"  he  said  kindly.  "  I  see  you  are 
really  interested.  1 'd  like  to  help  you." 

Jim  shook  his  head.  "  I  'd  like  to  oblige  you,"  he 
said.  "  I  'd  like  mighty  well  to  be  saved  again.  But 
the  only  thing  that  will  take  hold  of  old  Jim  Hughes 
is  San  Francisco  gospel.  If  I  could  have  made  it 
back  to  the  Coast  I  'd  have  been  all  right.  But  I 
passed  up  my  chance.  Don't  worry  about  me." 

Rapp  was  provoked,  thinking  it  a  play  for  his 
sympathy.  "  I  have  n't  any  money  to  send  you  up 
to  the  Coast,"  he  said  sharply.  "  And  if  you  went 
there,  I  doubt  if  you  would  do  anything  but  what  you 
do  here." 

"  I  'm  not  asking  you  for  money,  am  I  ? "  said 
Hughes,  suddenly  flushing.  "  I  was  simply  trying  to 
explain  to  you.  Good-night." 

Palama  Chapel  saw  him  no  more  and  honest  Mr. 


Rapp's  heart  was  troubled.  But  he  and  his  wife  found 
plenty  to  occupy  their  minds  in  their  efforts  to  save 
in  the  morning  the  fruits  of  their  toil  of  yesterday. 
And  in  due  time  the  Settlement  came  into  conflict  with 
the  interests  of  certain  of  the  powers.  Their  efforts 
to  cleanse  the  filthy  purlieus  of  Chinatown  and  the 
still  filthier  slums  of  Iwilei  met  with  a  quiet  but 
effective  opposition  that  finally  ended  in  a  courteous 
notice  to  Mrs.  Rapp  that  her  prescribing  for  the  sick 
and  the  ailing  was  against  the  territorial  law,  provid 
ing  that  only  licensed  physicians  should  be  allowed 
to  practise  in  Honolulu. 

Three  nights  later  a  Chinese  came  out  of  a  house 
across  the  street  from  the  deserted  chapel  and  built 
a  fire  in  the  gutter.  He  worked  hastily,  puffing  noisily 
as  he  thrust  little  sticks  of  kindling  into  the  heart  of 
the  burning  pile  of  paper.  A  little  crowd  gathered, 
jabbering  curiously.  The  Chinese,  baring  his  arms, 
poured  incense  on  the  blaze  from  a  paper  sack,  work 
ing  his  lips  in  mad  incantation.  A  block  away  another 
fire  suddenly  flared  into  the  darkness,  sparks  stream 
ing  upward  to  the  stars.  A  gong  rolled  its  thunderous 
beat  out  over  the  quarter.  The  crowd  melted  silently. 
All  Palama  shuddered  within  doors.  The  plague  had 
broken  out. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Rapp  found  a  squad  of 
mounted  police  barring  the  way  across  Nuuanu  Creek. 
Beyond  the  bridge  he  saw  the  uninterrupted  traffic  of 
the  careless  city.  He  distinguished  a  party  of  tour 
ists  viewing  the  sights.  He  turned  and  looked  back 


370    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

over  Palama.  It  was  deserted  of  grown  people.  A 
few  dying  fires  sent  little  spirals  of  smoke  toward  the 
glowing  sky.  Little  children  huddled  on  the  curbs, 
oppressed  by  the  silence.  From  an  alley  near  by  came 
the  strident  wail  of  a  mourning  woman.  Against  an 
electric  light  pole  a  Chinese  slept  his  last  sleep,  await 
ing  the  dead  wagon. 

"  You  can  pass,"  said  the  police  sergeant,  lighting 
a  cigarette.  "  But  I  guess  they  '11  shut  Palama  up  by 
itself  to-morrow.  We  don't  allow  pokes  or  Hawaiians 
into  the  city  now.  Better  get  your  wife  and  take  her 
out  while  you  can." 

Mr.  Rapp  paused,  turning  his  eyes  from  the  safe 
city  back  to  the  quarter  he  called  home,  —  the  quarter 
he  was  trying  to  cleanse  and  make  decent. 

"Thanks,"  he  said  quietly.  "I  shall  stay.  But 
you  '11  let  Mrs.  Rapp  pass  ?  " 

The  sergeant,  who  remembered  gratefully  the  woman 
who  had  soothed  the  last  hour  of  a  little  child  whose 
girl-mother  did  not  know  how  to  save  it,  nodded  his 
head.  "  You  better  get  her  through  right  away,"  he 
suggested. 

With  a  groan,  Mr.  Rapp  turned  and  made  his  way 
to  the  little  cottage  he  called  home.  In  the  lanai  his 
wife  waited  for  him,  her  face  drawn  and  white.  "  Dear 
heart !  "  she  called,  as  he  came  up  the  steps.  "  Dear 
heart,  they  're  dying !  " 

They  were,  all  around  them.  But  after  that  first 
cry  of  anguish  neither  spoke  again  of  the  horror. 
Rapp  tried  to  suggest  that  she  take  advantage  of  the 


chance  and  go  to  Waikiki.  "  I  can  stay  and  do  what 
I  can,"  he  said. 

She  smiled. 

They  were  almost  alone  the  first  days.  Honolulu, 
kept  in  ignorance  of  the  death  that  knocked  at  her 
door,  heard  only  vague  rumors  of  infectious  disease 
and  the  necessity  an  active  health  department  felt  of 
cleaning  up  the  native  quarters.  The  band  played  in 
Emma  Square  as  of  old,  and  from  Fort  Street  to 
Waikiki  none  but  the  government  officials  suspected 
the  scenes  in  which  Mr.  Rapp  and  his  wife  were  acting 
across  the  stream,  fighting  the  plague  with  such  sup 
plies  as  they  could  get  from  the  police. 

The  third  day  they  came  to  their  home  in  the  little 
lane  bordered  by  papayas  for  a  brief  rest.  The  ser 
vant  had  fled  and  they  cooked  what  food  they  could 
find,  ate  it,  and  went  to  sleep  in  the  lanai,  holding  each 
other's  hand  that  neither  might  be  seized  upon  by  death 
alone. 

They  woke  to  find  a  man  in  dirty  cotton  trousers  and 
a  ragged  shirt  seated  on  the  steps.  He  looked  at  Rapp 
bashfully  and  nodded.  "  I  thought  maybe  I  could 
help  you,"  he  muttered. 

It  was  Hughes.  When  Mrs.  Rapp  sat  up  in  her  chair 
and  brushed  the  hair  out  of  her  weary  eyes  he  nearly 
fled.  She  smiled  at  him  and  he  mumbled  inarticu 
lately.  "  Hughes  thought  we  might  need  some  help," 
said  her  husband,  doubtfully. 

Quicker  to  understand,  Mrs.  Rapp  nodded  to  the 
outcast.  "  It 's  good  of  you,"  she  said.  "  Would 


372    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

you  mind  helping  me  to  get  something  for  us  to 
eat?" 

So  there  were  three  of  them  that  toiled  in  the  heat 
and  smoke  of  the  disinfecting  fires.  It  was  grim  work, 
the  grimmer  because  they  heard  no  news  from  the 
city  that  hummed  across  Nuuanu  stream,  careless  of 
the  dying.  Hughes  said  little  as  he  went  about  the 
tasks  that  mercy  set.  But  every  now  and  again  he 
would  look  at  Mrs.  Rapp,  nod  his  head  vigorously  and 
smile.  It  was  a  confident  smile,  cheering  beyond  words 
to  the  exhausted  woman.  She  taught  herself  always 
to  respond  to  it,  feeling  a  certain  stimulus  in  thus  ac 
knowledging  that  all  was  not  lost.  But  the  hour  came 
when  she  did  not  smile  in  answer  to  Hughes'  quick 
flash  of  cheer.  Instead  she  gazed  at  him  with  weary 
eyes  and  sank  to  the  steps  of  the  little  hut  within  which 
the  child  she  had  been  nursing  lay  dead.  Her  eyes 
closed. 

With  a  startled  leap  Hughes  reached  her  side.  Rapp 
was  far  up  the  street  burning  rubbish.  The  outcast 
stared  down  at  the  slender  form  an  instant  and  then 
he  stooped.  With  an  effort  he  raised  the  light  body 
in  his  arms  and  strode  away  toward  the  cottage  under 
the  papayas.  It  was  a  hard  climb  up  the  lane  and  the 
beads  of  sweat  stood  out  on  his  white  face  when  he 
finally  reached  her  chair  in  the  lanai.  There  he  laid 
her  down,  gently,  and  sped  away  for  her  husband. 

He  came,  his  limbs  shaking  under  him,  fearing  the 
worst.  He  poured  out  all  his  little  skill  to  revive  her, 
and  when  Hughes  heard  the  man's  voice  calling  to 


PERIODICAL    PROSELYTE    373 

the  wife,  he  slipped  out  into  the  little  yard,  where  he 
stood,  bareheaded,  in  the  hot  sun. 

But  it  was  not  death,  only  exhaustion,  that  had  over 
powered  Mrs.  Rapp's  frail  body.  She  revived,  and 
when  Hughes  tiptoed  up  the  steps  he  met  her  smile. 
He  mumbled  inarticulate  words  and  turned  away,  hurry 
ing  down  the  lane  and  out  of  sight.  So  there  were 
but  two  of  them  to  carry  on  the  battle.  They  toiled 
harder  than  ever,  working  with  frantic  strength  to  stem 
the  tide  of  death  that  rippled  to  the  very  hills.  But 
this  time  they  made  shorter  shifts  of  it,  coming  back 
to  the  little  cottage  to  meet  the  woman's  smile,  to 
hover  about  her  with  anxious  words  of  encouragement, 
to  steam  over  the  stove  compounding  soups  and  dishes 
she  might  enjoy.  And  when  her  smile  grew  stronger, 
Hughes  would  slip  out,  his  rake  in  hand,  to  battle  with 
filth,  to  burn  rubbish,  to  bury  the  dead,  to  lift  the 
dying  into  the  open  air. 

One  day  Rapp  paused  on  the  porch  of  his  house 
and  stared  out  at  the  bay.  He  saw  a  couple  of  steamers 
anchored  out  beyond  the  reef.  He  saw  others  anchored 
inside,  flying  signal  flags.  Hughes  joined  him  and 
they  nodded  to  each  other.  The  city  had  been  quar 
antined.  The  black  death  had  crossed  the  stream. 
They  were  not  alone. 

That  afternoon  soldiers  appeared  in  Palama. 
Wagons  loaded  with  disinfectants  rumbled  across  the 
bridges  and  squads  of  men  with  rakes  and  brooms 
invaded  the  alleys.  The  city  had  wakened.  On  every 
hand  officialdom  worked  beside  them. 


374    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

But  it  was  too  late.  The  plague  had  got  a  foothold 
that  nothing  could  shake.  Chinese  and  Japanese,  na 
tive  and  white,  they  cried  out  in  pain,  panted  and 
wheezed  on  their  mats,  and  died. 

All  day  long  the  good  priest  of  Kalihi-uka  chanted 
the  masses  for  souls  and  flung  the  incense  into  the 
polluted  air.  All  day  long  the  dead  wagons  toiled  up 
the  hills,  and  the  wails  of  the  desolate  rose  to  the 
languid  skies. 

Eapp  found  himself  suddenly  overcome  with  dis 
taste  of  life.  It  mattered  nothing  what  he  might  do. 
He  labored  on  because  Hughes  worked  beside  him, 
with  his  flashing  smile,  his  eternal  confidence.  But 
the  end  came.  He  went  to  the  cottage  and  slipped 
into  the  chair  beside  his  wife.  There  he  stayed,  fight 
ing  for  strength  to  live  through  the  horror. 

But  Hughes  accepted  this,  as  he  had  the  woman's 
collapse,  with  cheerfulness.  He  still  worked  with  rake 
and  fire  and  medicine.  But  he  came  oftener  into  the 
lanai,  where  these  two  militant  workers  drowsed  in 
exhaustion  of  body  and  soul.  He  cooked  their  meals. 
And  now  and  then  he  would  stop  before  them,  smiling 
cheerfully.  "  Not  so  bad  to-day,"  he  would  remark. 
"  Only  three  died  in  Palama  since  morning.  We  Ve 
got  it  under.  Cheer  up !  " 

They  looked  wearily  for  him  when  he  was  gone. 
The  hours  passed  with  unbearable  sluggishness.  And 
when  he  came  again  they  would  rally  a  smile  to  meet 
his,  only  to  sink  back  into  apathy. 

One  night  he  came  to  the  house  and  threw  his  rake 


Rapp  and  his  wife  rose  to  their  feet  and  walked  feebly  out. 

Page  375 


PERIODICAL    PROSELYTE    375 

down  with  a  bang.  "  It  }s  all  over,"  he  said.  "  No 
new  cases  to-day."  He  breathed  chokingly. 

"  How  about  Honolulu  ?  "  Rapp  demanded  fretfully. 

Hughes  blew  his  breath  out  with  a  whistle.  He 
panted  in  the  heat,  still  smiling.  Then  he  threw  his 
hand  out.  "  Come  and  see." 

For  the  first  time  Rapp  and  his  wife  rose  to  their 
feet  and  walked  feebly  out  to  the  gate.  Hughes  went 
beside  them,  blowing  out  his  breath,  wheezing  like  a 
spent  runner.  "  Look !  "  he  said. 

They  looked.  The  sky  was  crimson  above  the  city 
across  the  stream.  Sparks  soared  among  the  stars.  A 
faint  roar,  as  of  a  distant  crackling  surf,  beat  upon 
their  ears.  They  pushed  on  into  the  lane,  followed 
its  declivity  a  hundred  yards,  and  came  out  into  a  full 
view.  The  city  was  afire  from  Kuuanu  stream  to 
Fort  Street.  Rapp  drew  a  long  breath.  He  stared, 
open  mouthed,  for  a  moment.  Then  he  turned  to  his 
wife. 

"  It  is  all  over/'  he  said.  "  Fear  has  done  what  we 
could  not.  This  saves  the  city." 

"  Will  they  burn  Palama,  too  ?  "  his  wife  demanded. 

Hughes  puffed  out  his  white  cheeks  and  seemed  to 
be  muttering  to  himself.  Suddenly  his  voice  broke 
articulately.  "  No"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  Palama  was 
saved."  He  smiled.  But  agony  gathered  in  his  eyes. 

With  a  sudden  leaning  forward  Mrs.  Rapp  put  her 
hand  on  the  outcast's  arm.  "  You  saved  it,"  she  said. 

He  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment,  the  ultimate 
amazement  of  a  man  who  turns  a  corner  and  finds  the 


376    ACROSS    THE    LATITUDES 

end  of  his  thoroughfare.  He  gasped.  Then  he  turned 
on  his  heel,  clutched  at  the  air,  and  fell.  They  bent 
over  him.  He  opened  his  lips.  "  I  lost  my  show  to 
be  saved,"  he  said  with  difficulty.  "  Peniel  Mission 
.  .  .  strong  doctrine.  .  .  .  Could  n't  go  again.  .  .  .  No 
good,  anyhow.  .  .  .  Unsaved  .  .  ." 

The  conflagration  across  Nuuanu  roared  into  the 
sky. 

But  Palama  was  safe.  Under  the  papayas  lay  the 
last  case,  his  face  upturned  to  the  crimson  sky. 


A  Story  of  the  Oregon  Timber  Lands 


THE  LAND  CLAIMERS 


By  JOHN  FLEMING  WILSON 

Author  of  "  Across  the  Latitudes, "  etc. 

Illustrated  by  Arthur  E.  Becher.          12mo.          $1.50 


A  meaty,  virile  story,  straightforward,  unpretentious  and  full 
of  human  interest. — Philadelphia  North  American. 

The  characters  are  strongly  developed,  with  many  pretty 
situations  and  amusing  incidents. — Springfield  Republican. 

The  man's  courage  and  humor,  his  simple  code  of  heroism  and 
his  love,  make  a  tale  that  is  unexpected  in  its  turnings,  and 
fascinating  from  start  to  finish. — Boston  Globe. 

There  is  much  humor  in  the  book,  with  pictures  in  words  of 
the  pack  trains  that  travel  the  plains,  and  the  wildest  of  forests 
with  their  ever-present  dangers.  It  is  a  fascinating  story. 

— Philadelphia  Record. 

It  combines  the  pleasures  of  life  in  the  open  with  a  romance 
of  unusual  strength,  with  humor,  pathos  and  tragedy,  and  it 
introduces  characters  of  virility  and  perseverance. 

—  Boston  Transcript. 

The  story  is  touching  and  interesting,  and  the  author  has 
given  us  a  hero  unlike  all  other  heroes  we  have  met  in  life 
or  fiction,  in  so  far  as  that  hero  seems  to  us  a  natural,  a  real 
being,  despite  his  very  unselfish  heroism. — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 


LITTLE,    BROWN,   &   CO.,    PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


Anthony  Partridge's  Latest  Novel 


THE  GOLDEN  WEB 


BY  ANTHONY  PARTRIDGE 

Author  of  "THE  KINGDOM  or  EARTH,"  " PASSERS-BY," etc. 


The  skill  of  Anthony  Partridge  improves  with  each 
successive  book  and  in  a  comparatively  short  time  he 
has  taken  his  place  among  the  most  entertaining  story 
tellers  of  the  day. 

As  a  writer  of  mystery  stories  Mr.  Partridge  is  at  his 
best.  His  latest  novel  of  this  type,  "  The  Golden  Web," 
is  likely  to  be  as  popular  as  his  "  Passers-By."  With  an 
involved  plot  hinging  upon  the  struggle  for  possession 
of  the  title  deed  to  the  Little  Anna  Gold  Mine;  and 
the  succession  of  incidents,  the  situations  in  which  the 
people  of  the  story  are  placed,  "The  Golden  Web"  can 
not  fail  to  excite  the  reader's  interest.  But  more  than 
this,  it  is  a  vibrant  love  story  with  a  charming,  self- 
willed  heroine  who  will  win  your  sympathy  at  once. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


"  The  novel  of  a  decade."  —  London  Graphic 


THE  BROAD  HIGHWAY 


By  JEFFERY  FARNOL 
12mo.     332  pages.     Cloth.     $1.35  net 


A  story  that  pulsates  with  life  and  overflows  with  origi 
nality.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

A  downright  delicious  book.  Gives  its  author  high 
place  at  once  among  writers  of  fine  romance. — New  York 
World. 

A  remarkable  book.  It  is  simply  human  nature,  sweet 
ening  and  ennobling.  Not  only  enchanting  as  a  story,  but 
scholarly  and  uplifting.  —  New  York  Herald. 

We  are  introduced  to  such  a  wealth  of  characters  that 
it  seems  as  if  the  genius  of  a  Dickens  or  a  Thackeray  had 
been  repersonifled  suddenly.  —  St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat. 

A  romance  of  the  most  romantic  sort,  a  long,  brightly 
written,  youthful-hearted  tale  of  action  and  love. 

—  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

A  novel  so  particularly  vivid,  lovable,  and  always 
interesting  that  we  feel  obliged  to  tell  the  reader :  "  Read 
it,  sir,  or  miss,  or  madam;  Read  it.  If  you  do,  you  will 
enjoy  it  heartily,  forsooth.  And  if  you  do  not  read  it, 
you  will  miss  a  pleasure  of  the  most  delightful  kind." 

—  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


By  the  author  of  "  Aunt  Jane  of  Kentucky" 


TO  LOVE  AND  TO 
CHERISH 


By  ELIZA   CALVERT   HALL 

Author  of  "  The  Land  of  Long  Ago,"  "  Sally  Ann's 
Experience,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  J.  V.  McFall.    $1.00  net 


A  story  of  vital  human  quality.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

A  Kentucky  idyl,  pure,  sweet,  fragrant — Los  Angeles 
Herald. 

Her  work  has  a  quality  all  its  own,  bespeaking  a  deep  and 
spiritual  individuality  in  the  author.  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

A  simple,  sweet,  wholesome  idyl  dealing  with  some  of  the 
great  issues  of  life  in  a  spirit  of  love  and  sacrifice.  .  .  .  Another 
instance  where  simplicity  is  strength  and  beauty.  —  Detroit 
Free  Press. 

It  is  a  story  which  flows  as  limpidly  as  a  mountain  brook, 
and  leaves  a  peculiar  sense  of  clear  impressions  behind  it  that 
is  a  tribute  to  its  good  art.  —  Christian  Science  Monitor. 

Lofty  of  sentiment  and  as  uplifting  a  tale  of  modern  chivalry 
as  any  tale  that  the  old  romancers  have  evolved.  In  a  word,  it 
is  an  artistic  gem.  —  Springfield  Union. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


L9-100m-9.'52(A3105)444 


PS          Wilson  - 
35U5 Across  the 
V/69U5a  latitudes. 


PS 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


001247315    3 


